


Jump The Gun

by allyasavedtheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art Thieves, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Established Relationship (scallison), F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both lean forward and peer at the apparent culprits in the picture. They’re young; a boy and girl that look about Stiles’ age.</p><p>“Scott McCall and Allison Argent,” Deucalion answers their unspoken question. “I want you to get rid of them.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First thing you need to know: this fic is equal parts scallison and sterek and the pov is divided up equally between the four of them. Any particular chapter may lean more heavily on either relationship but there will always be all four povs in each part 
> 
> so if you're only here for sterek, just know that with the exception of this chapter their storylines are going to 100% integrated together pretty much from the beginning of chapter 2 
> 
> Second thing, I should be updating this weekly - possibly every Friday but I might change the day. And I'm thinking it'll probably have around 5 chapters, possibly 6
> 
> And finally, despite the subject matter I don't intend for this fic to be angsty at all, i promise :) (as if i could do that to myself after 3x23)
> 
> As always characters do not belong to me and you can find me at [ allyasavedtheday](http://allyasavedtheday.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Scott’s story starts just over three years ago.

He grows up in a small town where he never fits in with a mother who loves him more than life itself and only ever wants him to succeed. She’s so proud of him when he’s accepted to a veterinary program, she cries.

He saves every last penny to move to New York only for his scholarship to fall through at the last minute. It leaves him working crappy hours at an even crappier coffee shop until he can afford to reapply. Two years later and he’s still working at the same crappy coffee shop.

Until he meets Allison.

 _Their_  story starts sixteen months ago.

He’s closing up the shop and almost doesn’t hear her banging on the door over the rain lashing off the windows.

She practically collapses in his arms when he lets her in. Her leg is bleeding and she tells him she’s been running for the last five blocks.

She says a stray chased her. (It isn’t until later he learns it was a police dog).

With a nurse for a mother and four years working as a vet’s assistant under his belt, he figures he’s equipped enough to wrap her up.

Gently, he sits her down on one of the chairs that isn’t yet overturned, sets the first aid kit on the table and pulls her leg into his lap.

He rolls her pant leg up and begins wiping up the blood, smiling in agreement when she insists she’s sniffling because she’s cold not because she’s crying.

When he gives her his hoodie she smiles like she’s trying to figure him out.

Scott patches up her leg, advises she get it seen to by a real doctor before she quickly assures him she’s fine, and then offers her a ride home.

He remembers the coy look in her eyes that was meant to cover up her uneasiness, “You don’t even know my name,” she says.

In a fit of bravery, he takes her palm, writes down his phone number and signs his name. “Well, now you know mine,” he grins.

She closes her palm after he lets go, pulls it close to her chest like she wants to keep it safe. There’s a kind of joy in her eyes that she looks like she’s trying to keep off her face.

His ancient as hell dirt-bike is a disaster to drive in this weather and in the city in general but he still likes it better than a taxi or the subway. Allison’s arms wind tight around his waist and she hooks her chin over his shoulder almost shyly. She murmurs her address in his ear and he tries to pretend he doesn’t shiver. (She notices anyway.)

When he ends up outside her building she climbs off the bike, hands him back his helmet and idles on the sidewalk for a minute before she eventually smiles wide, like she’s been trying to avoid doing all night, and says, “I’m Allison,” before ducking inside.

He’s in love with her.

To make a long story short, they start dating, get way too serious way too fast but it suits them.

After a month, Allison tells him what she does for a living. She’s an art student, which he knows, but he had no idea how she earns her money.

Art thief isn’t exactly what he expects.

The way she explains it though, it really  _isn’t_  what he expects.

Allison is an artist in a family of arms dealers. It’s like a rose in a field of nettles. Eventually one rubs off on the other.

She’d been approached in her freshman year by one of her professors; Alan Deaton, about joining his “extra-curricular”. As far as Allison knows, and therefore as far as  _Scott_  knows, there’s art in the city that’s fallen into the wrong hands. Deaton has a small band of students who help him get the paintings back and then he returns them to their rightful owners. He’s frustratingly vague about it all.

But Allison joins in because she finds her friends in this group and she’s enough of an art lover to want it to go somewhere where it’s appreciated. And because however vague Deaton is, there’s the heavy inference that however this art fell into the wrong hands, it wasn’t done so legally.

It’s only a matter of time before Scott gets involved too. Because the truth is, Scott really needs the money for college and the amount Deaton pays them is enough to make him weep.

It means that at twenty years old, Scott is finally able to afford to study for his dream job. But even if he knows what they’re doing is technically the right thing, it still doesn’t sit right with him.

So he makes a suggestion to Allison.

They move in together and they make a budget. They put money into a savings account, set more aside for bills, groceries and college tuitions but whatever surplus they have they give away.

When he mentions it to her, Allison smiles softly at him, kisses his forehead and says, “I told you you were making me a better person.”

They pick a different charity after each job. Sometimes they leave it for the homeless shelter, other times the children’s hospital. They give it to whoever needs it and it makes them both sleep easier at night.

He works well with Allison.

She’s quick, stealthy and deadly. He’s slower but more observant and stronger when it comes to taking the paintings down with ease that won’t leave a trace. They’re in sync and it makes them incredibly good at what they do.

And call Scott crazy but he actually  _enjoys_  it.

He jokes once that they’re like Robin Hood and Little John stealing from the rich to help the poor. Allison breaks down in hysterical laughter before agreeing with him and showing him her archery collection.

And that’s why he’s still happy with his life. Because yeah what they’re doing is serious and technically illegal but they can still laugh and have fun and act their age and be madly in love with each other.

And there’s no way he’d ever find that balance with anyone but her.

*

Derek straightens his tie, takes a cursory look in the mirror before striding out of the room and heading down the hall to their conference room. Approximately twenty seconds later he hears expensive shoes slapping against the tiled floors and a hand is latching onto his shoulder.

“You’re late,” he singsongs lowly.

“Am not,” Stiles scoffs, falling into step next to him.

Derek gives him a sideways glance, “Fix your hair, it’s a mess.”

“It’s  _artful_ ,” Stiles sniffs.

“Our clients need to take us seriously, you know?”

“My ability to hit a target is not impinged by my hair, Derek,” he retorts, shoving Derek’s shoulder lightly.

“This guy’s supposed to be a real hardass,” Derek reminds gently.

“Yes, because people who hire  _assassins_  are usually so pleasant to be around.”

“I’m just saying-“

Stiles huffs and pulls them to a stop. Derek sighs long-sufferingly but allows Stiles to turn him so they’re facing each other. “And  _I’m_  just saying we’ve got this, okay? We never mess up with a client, today won’t be any different. Stop worrying.”

Derek stares at him for a moment. The open expression on his face; the slight smile and warm eyes, no one would ever believe Stiles if he told them his job. It’s why he’s so good at it; he gets underestimated and he uses it to his advantage.

“Okay,” Derek answers eventually and Stiles’ smile brightens.

“Good. Now c’mon, we don’t wanna be late now do we?”

Derek rolls his eyes because it would be just like Stiles to accuse him of being the one to hold them up. It doesn’t change the fact that a traitorous smirk appears on his face when he sees Stiles grinning amusedly at him.

“Let’s go, idiot,” he says, grabbing Stiles by the scruff of the neck and dragging him down the corridor, ignoring the laughter that keeps bubbling from Stiles’ lips before he tries to stifle it. Derek stops a few feet from the door to the conference room, let’s go of Stiles and gives him a minute to sober up.

“Ready?” Stiles asks, chewing his lip in a nervous habit – he’s always a little on edge before they meet a new client for the first time, no matter what he says.

Derek reaches out and straightens the lapels on his jacket because he knows it’ll make Stiles scoff and by extension; calm down. “As I’ll ever be.”

Stiles nods, takes a deep breath and pushes down on the door handle, a cool smile appearing on his face.

The man sitting at the table stands up to greet them. He’s tall with sandy blond hair and the kind of charming smile that Derek knows better than to take for face value. “Gentlemen,” he says in a smooth, cultured accent. “So happy you could meet with me.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Stiles assures; the perfect depiction of calm and collected. “I’m Snowe and this is my partner, Hallward.”

Fake names had been a given when starting the business. Derek had been the one to suggest ones from famous literature. Stiles had snorted, called Derek a literary nerd and insisted Derek give himself the name Heathcliff. Derek had smacked him upside the head. But Stiles still went along with it.

“Deucalion,” the man replies, shaking Stiles’ hand and then moving to do the same with Derek.

They take a seat opposite him and Derek eyes the folder sitting on the table. Stiles and Derek always have their roles, whether it’s in a mission or meeting with a client. For the latter, Stiles is the charmer; the one who leads the conversation, asks the questions that need to be asked and lulls the client into a sense of security. Derek, on the other hand, keeps quiet for the most part. Instead cataloguing everything about their potential client: watching body language, how they react to Stiles’ questions, whether they seem a little bit too…unhinged. He notices it all and then he and Stiles discuss the best strategy for making a contract with the client or saying thanks but no thanks.

This meeting isn’t any different and Stiles immediately switches from pleasantries to professional mode when Deucalion starts fingering the file in front of him. “Why don’t you tell us why you’re in need of our services?” He phrases it like a question but there’s a kind of command underneath it that always gets people to talk. Derek has no idea how he does it.

“Certainly,” Deucalion acquiesces, flipping open the folder. “I’m the owner of quite a prestigious art gallery in the Upper East Side and, as you might be aware, there have been a number of robberies recently.”

“Aware?” Stiles scoffs. “Police are baffled by it.”

Deucalion grimaces as his lips form a thin line, “Yes, well after losing a few pieces myself and the police doing nothing I decided to have some extra cameras installed.”

Derek watches the way Deucalion holds himself; rigid like he’s barely containing his anger. And while Derek can appreciate art as much as the next person he’s kind of surprised as to where this is going. This guy wants them to assassinate  _art thieves?_  Seriously?

Deucalion flips through a few pages before he lands on a photo and turns the file around pushing it to Stiles and Derek’s side of the table.

They both lean forward and peer at the apparent culprits in the picture. They’re young; a boy and girl that look about Stiles’ age.

“Scott McCall and Allison Argent,” Deucalion answers their unspoken question. “I want you to get rid of them.”

Stiles casts a subtle sideways glance at Derek before sitting up straight again. “Sir, not that I want to do myself out of a deal or anything, but if you have proof why don’t you just take it to the police?”

Deucalion is barely hanging onto his shred of civility at this point; Derek can see it in the uptick of his mouth.

“These kids have taunted me for too long; I’m no longer interested in what the police can or cannot do for me. I want them gone,” he says flatly.

Derek sees the way Stiles startles almost imperceptibly out of the corner of his eye but he recovers quickly. “Alright, well I hope you don’t mind us asking you to wait outside for a few moments while my partner and I discuss this.”

Deucalion looks like he’s about to protest so Derek’s steps in. Stiles can handle himself but the more difficult clients tend to respond better to Derek.

“Erica will show you to the waiting area,” he says with finality. “She can get you coffee, tea, whatever you like.” He’s not as good at faking smiles as Stiles is but he certainly knows how to say, “Put a foot out of line and we’ll throw you out on your ass without question,” with an upturned lip and a raised eyebrow.

Deucalion watches him for a moment like he’s weighing his options but then he nods in acceptance and rises but not before taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and placing it face down on the table. “Maybe you should factor in your salary while you discuss it,” he says coolly.

*

“You ready?” Scott asks her in a hushed voice. They’re underneath the back window to the art gallery they’ve been hitting up in the last few months. It’s the easiest window to open but the smallest one to fit through which means Allison is the only one that can get through.

“Mhm, give me a boost,” Allison requests, slipping off her cross-bow and setting it down on the ground by Scott’s feet. She can’t fit through the window with it on but she has two Chinese ring daggers strapped to her belt anyway – just in case.

She turns around to face the wall, lifting her arms up until the tips of her fingers just brush the ledge. Scott obligingly crouches down, linking his fingers together so she can step up. He pushes her up, not letting go until she’s got a firm grip on the ledge and can manoeuvre herself through the window.

“Meet you at the back door,” she whispers before disappearing inside and shutting the window behind her.

They have twenty minutes while the security guards switch over – you’d think given the amount of art robberies in the past few years the guards would be less likely to dawdle in the staff room in between their shifts but apparently they’re just not that bright.

She hurries down the hall, keeping her footfalls light and keeping out of sight of the cameras – they disabled them anyway but better to be safe than sorry.

Once she reaches the back door in the store room she slips a bobby pin out of her hair, heading straight for the lock. “Clinically and unemotionally,” she whispers to herself to calm herself down – she’s always nervous about this part even though it hardly takes thirty seconds to get the door open so Scott can step inside.

He watches her slip the pin back into her hair and hands over her cross-bow wordlessly with his lips quirked.

“What?” she asks, slipping the strap back over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head and laughing quietly. “It just whenever I ask Lydia why girls have so many accessories she says it’s because you need them. I just didn’t think this was what she meant.”

Allison rolls her eyes, fighting back a smile. “Come on, we’ve got a painting to get and not a lot of time to get it.”

“You got it, boss.” Scott gives her a soldier’s salute, a completely ineffective one given the giant grin he’s sporting. Once they’re out of the store room they move quickly, sticking to the walls and dark corners.

It doesn’t take long before they’re in one of the display rooms – thankfully they only have to go as far as the ground floor. The painting they’re supposed to get isn’t that big either so they shouldn’t have to worry about transport.

“All good?” Allison says, waiting for Isaac to answer Scott in his ear piece before Scott gives her a thumbs up.

Lydia gives her a soft “All good,” in her own ear piece and she and Scott get moving. Lydia’s waiting in the van out back to take them away while Isaac keeps lookout, watching the few cameras that are still working to keep an eye on the security guards. Danny’s the one who disabled the cameras in the first place but more importantly, he’s the one who has to disable the alarms so they won’t go off when they take the painting off the wall.

Allison gives Scott a look when they reach the piece they’re supposed to take. Their system’s never failed before but there’s always the risk of the alarm not disabling properly and it triggering as soon as they touch the canvas. He meets her gaze for a second before whispering, “On the count of three?”

She nods and he starts to count under his breath. On three they both reach up and gently slide the painting off the hook. Allison wordlessly hands the painting off to Scott while she slips the black cover out her jacket pocket and unfolds it. Scott holds the painting out from his chest so she can slip the cover over it and Allison checks her watch; they have six minutes to get out of here.

With a single nod of confirmation, she and Scott quickly begin to make their way back through the gallery. Once they get to the store room Allison runs ahead to open the door, stepping outside and holding it open for Scott to get past. The van’s there with the sliding door open and Lydia and Isaac looking expectantly at both of them – well, Lydia looks more impatient than expectant, Allison notes with a grin.

As soon as Scott’s outside she closes the door as gently as possible before darting over to the van.

“Everything go okay?” Lydia asks after she slides the door shut, already shifting the van into drive.

“Perfectly,” Scott assures, making room for Allison to sit next to him.

“Good,” Lydia nods as Isaac climbs into the front seat.

“Hey can we get pizza after this because I’m  _starved_ ,” he complains, slouching back against his seat as Lydia tsks.

“God  _yes_ ,” Scott agrees vehemently. Allison laughs when she sees Lydia rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath about how  _boys are never satisfied._

“How about we get the stolen painting out of our hands first?” Allison suggests, quirking an eyebrow. It’s easy to forget about their job when it feels like they’re just going for a midnight snack.

“Which is why I said  _after_ ,” Isaac retorts.

“We’ll be at Deaton’s in a few minutes,” Lydia says, effectively dismissing the conversation.

Allison smirks, settling back against her chair as Scott puts an arm around her, pulling her in. She sighs contentedly, letting her head fall to rest against his shoulder, tuning out Lydia and Isaac bickering in the front seat.

“Good job, Ally,” Scott murmurs, his lips pressed against the top of her head.

“You too, Scotty.” She grins when she feels him shaking with laughter. It feels nice; this being their normal. Sitting in the back of a getaway van on the way to see her art professor with a stolen painting after she and Scott just broke into an art gallery. It’s ridiculous but it’s their life and it doesn’t feel all that wrong or scary when Scott’s by her side and Lydia’s driving the car in a frankly lethal manner and Isaac’s complaining about how hungry he is.

*

“ _Five million dollars?!”_  Stiles hisses, whirling around in his seat to stare at Derek with wide eyes as soon as the door closes. “This guy is a psychopath.”

“A psychopath who wants to pay us five million dollars,” Derek points out.

“To kill two art activists or some shit,” Stiles retorts. “Derek, we can’t actually consider this, right? I mean we can both agree the guy has a few screws loose.”

“It’s our job, Stiles,” Derek replies calmly. “All these people have a few screws loose or they wouldn’t be coming to us in the first place.”

“Yeah but-“

“I know he seems like a creep but when has Morell ever led us astray before?” Derek asks. Morell acts as their middleman – or middlewoman in this case – she finds them clients, puts them in contact with Stiles and Derek and then takes a step back from the whole business. But no one gets within two feet of either of them without her approval and Morell has a talent for sniffing out the crazies.

“I guess,” Stiles admits begrudgingly. He hates when Derek uses logic. “Something about this just feels wrong.”

“If you really don’t want to go through with this we don’t have to,” Derek says softly, reassuringly.

Stiles meets his eyes, sees earnestness there that Derek never shows to anyone else. Stiles doesn’t know what he’d do without him. Derek’s his best friend, his anchor when this world gets overwhelming. Yeah he was the one to get Stiles involved in all this in the first place but it was the right thing to do. He knows Derek thought Stiles might’ve been like him; heartbroken and angry at the loss of his mother with no release – the same way Derek was after losing his family – and he was right.

Stiles wouldn’t trade his life or his friendship with Derek.

They work well together. They’re in sync.

“No,” Stiles sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I’ll do it. It just feels weird when they’re so close to our age.”

“I know,” Derek replies in understanding. “But they’re criminals, Stiles.”

Stiles looks at him with narrowed eyes, “Don’t put them on the same level as murderers and rapists, Derek. They’ve been stealing  _paintings_.”

Derek makes a face and Stiles feels guilty. He knows the only reason Derek even said it is because he’s trying to reconcile it in his own head. “Maybe there’s more to it,” Derek suggests. “We’ll get Danny to do background checks.”

Stiles nods, “Tell Erica to bring him back in.”

“Stiles, if it’s really bothering you-“

“ _Derek.”_  Stiles says sharply.

Derek presses his lips together before taking out his phone to text Erica.

About two minutes later the door’s opening again and Deucalion’s stepping back inside. Erica sends them both a small smile before she shuts the door again.

“Gentlemen, do we have an agreement?” Deucalion asks like he already knows the answer.

“We do,” Stiles says and sees the thrilled glint in Deucalion’s eyes.

“Provided your background check and your targets’ checks out,” Derek adds before Deucalion can get too trigger happy.

Deucalion frowns but concedes, “Fair enough. You have my contact details.”

Stiles nods shortly and watches him retreat to the door. He can feel Derek’s eyes on him but won’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll get Danny to push the background checks,” he says gently. When Stiles nods, Derek gets up from his seat and squeezes his shoulder briefly.

“Derek,” Stiles calls just before Derek gets to the door.

He hears Derek stop, knows he doesn’t turn around like he’s bracing himself for the thing Stiles has been waiting to say for the entire meeting.

“Her last name’s Argent,” Stiles says quietly.

Derek sighs, “I know.”

“She’s related to them, isn’t she?” he asks, feeling numb.

“Probably,” Derek replies after a beat.

“I’ll do it.”

Derek doesn’t say anything but Stiles hears the hitch in his breath, sees the way his shoulders sag in a way that’s not quite relief but something like it before he leaves the room.

 

Stiles takes a seat next to Derek in front of Danny’s desk. His eyes meet Derek’s for a second before he looks at Danny, “So what’d you find?”

Danny looks up at them and turns his laptop around for them to see. “So Deucalion, there’s not a single trace of him before six years ago.”

“How is that possible?” Derek asks, frowning.

“It’s not,” Danny says simply. “It just means he’s good at hiding. The earliest things I can find are around the time of the opening of his gallery. There’s a pretty extensive medical file too but it’s locked tight. I’ll keep digging but I need time.”

Stiles nods, “Okay. And the hits?”

Danny presses a key to switches tabs, pulling up files on the guy and girl. He opens the picture of the girl first and turns the laptop back to them. She has dark brown hair and fair skin with delicate features. She’s beautiful, Stiles can admit. But there’s also a kindness in her smile that seems real.

“Allison Argent. Twenty-two. She’s in the third year of an art major. Originally from San Diego. Moved around a lot as kid – her family are pretty prestigious arms dealers. She moved to New York three years ago for college. That’s about it.”

“Criminal record?” Stiles asks.

“Nope,” Danny answers, popping the ‘p’. He turns the laptop back to face him to enlarge a picture of the guy. It’s probably the picture on his college ID or something because he’s got a goofy smile and floppy hair and couldn’t look further from a criminal. “Scott McCall. From a small town in California. Twenty-one and in his freshman year of veterinary science. Like Allison, he moved here three years ago but his scholarship fell through at the last minute. He was working at a Starbucks until fifteen months ago which seems to be around the time he got involved with everything. Now he’s living with Argent and it seems pretty clear they’re a couple.”

“And no, no criminal record either,” he adds before Stiles can even ask. “And there’s one other thing.”

“What?”

“You won’t catch them.”

Stiles isn’t sure whether it’s a testament to their egos or their track record that he and Derek both snort derisively. “We’ve always caught them before,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

“Well you won’t catch these two,” Danny insists. He looks kind of smug about the whole thing really. “This art heist has been going on for three years and the police don’t even have a lead. It’s also obviously more than the two of them. They’re fast, stealthy and experienced. This isn’t a hit and run situation. You’re going to need to take your time with this one.”

“What do you suggest then?” Derek asks drily – he _never_  takes someone telling him how to do his job well.

Danny grins, pulling his laptop back to him. When he turns it back around there’s a picture of an empty apartment.

“What’s that?” Stiles says, starting to get an idea of where this is going.

“The apartment across the hall from them is vacant,” Danny answers dutifully, giving them both an expectant look.

“Integrate ourselves into their life and learn their routine,” Derek muses aloud.

“Shouldn’t be too hard given their ages,” Stiles adds.

“Exactly,” Danny nods with a grin. “Pack your things, boys. You’ve got a new home.” 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek looks at him like he’s sprouted two heads. “You do realise we’re going to have to act like a couple around them now?” he says slowly.
> 
> Stiles immediately tries to protest until Derek’s words sink in and it brings him up short, “I didn’t- I- oh. Fuck.” Jesus he’s so stupid. Now he’s gonna have to pretend like he’s in love with Derek. Gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should've said this before but yeah i don't know the first thing about assassins or art thieves and that feels like a really weird thing to google so i'm going to plead creative licence with this one =P

Stiles is just lugging the final suitcase into the elevator and turning to grin triumphantly at Derek – because he’d insisted Stiles couldn’t carry it on his own and he should know better than to challenge Stiles like that…actually that might’ve been his plan all along. Asshole - when he hears a girl calling for them to hold the door.

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles and steps around their bags to hold the elevator door open.

“So chivalrous,” Stiles says with a dreamy sigh before snickering at the glower Derek shoots him over his shoulder. God it’s easy to rile him up.

He stops laughing though when the girl reaches the elevator. “Thanks!” she pants, having run the whole way over, before smiling brightly at them both and going to press the button for her floor.

It’s not just any girl. It’s  _Allison Argent._

While she tucks a canvas under her arm Stiles looks over her head and gives Derek a significant look. Derek only rolls his eyes again and mouths,  _I know_.

“Movin’ in?” Allison asks, gesturing with a nod of her head to all their crap and Stiles immediately stops trying to have a conversation with Derek’s eyebrows.

“Yup,” Stiles answers, relaxing his stance and letting an easy grin settle on his face. “Apartment 3b!”

Allison turns to him with a surprised smile on her face. “Hey, that’s just across the hall from my apartment.”

“No kidding?” Stiles asks incredulously. He really deserves an Oscar for his acting abilities to be honest. “Y’hear that, Derek? We just met our new neighbour.”

He raises an eyebrow at Stiles before Allison looks at him and he’s forced to quickly school his expression into a smile. “I’m Derek,” he says, holding out a hand for her to shake before gesturing to Stiles. “This is Stiles.”

“I’m Allison,” she replies, shaking his hand and then doing the same with Stiles.

The elevator dings before Stiles can say anything and Allison steps out. Derek picks up three of their bags –  _show-off_  – while Stiles grabs his backpack and the last suitcase.

“You guys need any help?” she asks politely.

“Nah we’re good,” Stiles assures, following Derek out of the elevator. “Muscles, here’s got it covered,” he adds with a grin, nodding to Derek’s admittedly impressive biceps.

Derek throws him the sourest look over his shoulder and Stiles feigns innocence until he scoffs and continues on towards their apartment.

Allison watches their exchange in amusement, her hand resting on the handle of her front door. “You sure?”

“Positive,” Derek promises just as the door to Allison’s apartment opens and Scott McCall is stepping out.

He looks surprised to see Allison but a smile quickly graces his face and he’s leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Hey babe, I gotta run to class-“

“Scott, wait.” She stops him from getting any further and nods at Derek and Stiles standing across the hall. “Meet our new neighbours first.”

Scott’s eyes widen at the word “neighbours,” but he turns to them with an open expression and holds out a hand. “I’m Scott; Allison’s boyfriend.”

“Stiles and Derek,” Stiles answers for the both of them – mostly because he knows it’ll piss Derek off but whatever. He shakes Scott’s hand before propping an arm up on Derek’s shoulder so he can lean his weight on him. This is their third trip up with their bags, he’s tired okay?

“Cool,” Scott says easily. “So are you two…uh…?”

Scott fumbles awkwardly for a second and that’s just about how long it takes for Stiles to realise what this looks like.

Derek starts to say, “Oh no, we’re-“ but Stiles cuts him off. “Yep!” he says quickly, slinging his arm around Derek’s shoulder and pulling him close. “Derek’s my boo, my bf, my-“

“As you can tell, I’m very lucky,” Derek says in a voice drier than the Sahara desert. Well fuck him, Stiles is an awesome boyfriend; fake or otherwise.

But Scott and Allison only look amused. “Very lucky,” Scott agrees with a chuckle and Stiles is struck with how genuine he seems. But he pushes it away. They have a job to do.

“Listen, I gotta head to class but if you guys need any help just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Derek says gratefully – huh, his acting’s improving.

“Yeah and I’ll be home for the rest of the day,” Allison adds. “So just swing by if you need anything.”

Scott nods in concurrence, “Allison’s freakishly strong. Seriously, if you need help with heavy lifting, just ask her.”

Allison preens under Scott’s enamoured expression and Stiles feels his lips tugging up in an involuntary smile and no, get it together, Stilinski. This is a  _job_.

“We will,” Derek replies. “Thanks.”

He takes Stiles’ hand then – which hey, that’s new and- oh right. Fake boyfriends – and starts pulling him inside.

“It was nice to meet you,” Stiles smiles as Scott and Allison give him similar responses before Derek closes the door and they’re standing in the middle of their empty apartment.

Stiles braces himself when Derek whirls on him and bites out, “ _What the hell was that?”_

“This wasn’t gonna work if Scott thought one of us was trying to move in on his girl, alright?” Stiles explains defensively. “So consider that threat eradicated.”

Derek looks at him like he’s sprouted two heads. “You do realise we’re going to have to act like a couple around them now?” he says slowly.

Stiles immediately tries to protest until Derek’s words sink in and it brings him up short, “I didn’t- I- oh. Fuck.” Jesus he’s so stupid. Now he’s gonna have to pretend like he’s in love with Derek. Gross.

Derek stares at him for a minute but when it doesn’t seem like Stiles is going to say anything else, he throws his hands up in defeat. “You’re an idiot.”

“I  _panicked_ ,” Stiles snaps. Because screw him. Maybe it was stupid but it wasn’t _that_  stupid. “We’ll be fine. We just have to strategize.”

Derek works his jaw and his stony expression give nothing away until he grumbles a, “Yes dear,” that has Stiles barking out a shocked laugh.

At the slight uptick in Derek’s mouth, Stiles punches his shoulder, “Fucker! I actually thought you were mad at me.”

“Oh I’m mad,” Derek says airily. “But at least this’ll be funny if nothing else.”

Stiles tries to argue but Derek picks up the suitcase and heads for the only bedroom, “Unless you help me, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,  _honey_ ,” he calls over his shoulder.

*

“We got new neighbours yesterday,” Allison tells Lydia conversationally when they’re in art class the next day.

“Guys or girls?” Lydia asks, delicately dipping her paintbrush into the colour she just spent the last thirty minutes mixing.

“Guys. Two of them. Derek and Stiles,” Allison replies, eyeing her canvas critically before adding another stroke.

“Are they cute?” Lydia asks disinterestedly, mostly distracted by her work, but Allison knows it’s a legitimate question.

She laughs, “Lydia, Jackson-“

“Is in London this semester,” Lydia cuts her off with feigned composure.

“And you’re still mad he didn’t talk to you about it first?” she supplies.

“I’m not  _mad_ ,” Lydia counters. “However, if seeing photos of me with strapping young men reminds him what a hot commodity I am and gives him incentive to come home than so be it.”

“Except  _you_ ,” Allison says, leaning over to boop Lydia’s nose with the end of her paintbrush. “Are not a commodity.”

Lydia flashes her a genuine smile before the cool smirk reappears, “Oh honey, I know. This is just a little game Jackson and I like to play.”

“I’ll never understand your relationship,” Allison snorts, adding some red to her mix.

“Of course you don’t,” Lydia says matter-of-factly. “Your relationship with Scott is built on mutual trust and affection. Mine and Jackson’s is built on pushing each other’s buttons until it culminates in fantastic hate sex.”

Allison arches an eyebrow, laughing when Lydia gives her a proud smile.

“Anyway, don’t change the subject! New neighbours, tell me about them.”

“Uh not much to tell,” Allison replies honestly. “I met them as they were moving their stuff in yesterday.”

When Lydia pins her with a look Allison rolls her eyes and responds to her unspoken question. “ _Yes_ , they’re both extremely cute and both  _extremely_  not available,” she adds.

“A couple?” Lydia questions.

“Mm,” she hums in response. “Seemed nice though. The Stiles guy is a bit eccentric, Derek seems quieter.”

“Ah so it’s opposites attract? Not like the dimple-clad sweethearts with big brown eyes and hopeless romantic notions that  _I_  know?” Lydia teases, grinning when Allison huffs and suppresses a laugh.

“Scott and I are not hopeless romantics,” she argues.

“You melt around him, Allison,” Lydia counters. “He melts around you too. Just accept it.”

Allison feels a blush rise in her cheeks, biting her lip as she focuses on her painting again.

Deaton walks past then, saving her from saying anything. “Ladies, how’s it going?” he asks, gesturing to their canvases. Upon taking a closer look at Allison’s, he looks at her, “Let me guess, Scott?”

“How did you-“

“You favour yellow when you paint him,” he says simply, a faint smile on his lips.

Allison looks back at her canvas, the swirling colours that started off as Scott’s tattoo and then took on a life of their own. Lydia’s smirking as if to say, “I told you so,” when she looks back up and Allison scoffs.

“Will you be showcasing it at the charity ball next month? I know I’ve seen a few of your other pieces that could be in a collection with this one,” he mentions in that quiet, encouraging voice he always uses in class.

Allison shrugs. Those pieces are extremely personal. She’s painted her family and she’s painted Lydia, Scott was the last on her list. “I haven’t decided yet,” she says eventually.

Deaton only nods in acceptance before moving on to look at Lydia’s painting. “A tree again, Lydia?” he sighs.

“It’s not perfect yet,” she says firmly.

“Lydia, I know this is probably the worst possible thing to say to an artist but they’re all beginning to look the same. You reached perfection a long time ago,” he replies gently.

Lydia purses her lips in frustration, “Well, then I want to go beyond perfection.”

Deaton sighs again but Allison catches the proud look on his face before he leans in close to both girls and asks them in a hushed voice to stay behind after class. As soon as he leaves Allison catches Isaac’s eye across the classroom and he shrugs as if to say he doesn’t know either.

Allison returns to her own work, snorting when she catches Lydia adding another branch to her tree. “Lydia, come on, you’ve gotta be sick of drawing trees at this point.”

“Something’s not right,” she grits out with an irritated voice, setting her paintbrush down like she’s physically restraining herself from slamming it down on the table.

Allison sighs and stands up, coming to rest behind her best friend and settling her hands on Lydia’s shoulder. “How about,” she suggests. “You change perspectives?”

Lydia cranes her neck back to look at her, arching a delicate eyebrow.

Allison moves to stand next to her so she can reach the painting and turns the canvas upside down. “Not a tree…”

“But the roots of one,” Lydia says faintly. She stares at it for a few moments before she spins around on her chair to face Allison then, a brilliant grin on her face. “And  _that_  is why you’re the only one who’s allowed to sit next to me in art class.”

Allison smiles brightly at her, returning to her seat. “Ditto.”

At the end of class Allison, Lydia and Isaac hang back as everyone else filters out. Once the room is empty they wander over to where Deaton is sitting as his desk, smiling placidly.

“What’s up?” Isaac asks.

Deaton rises, coming around the front of the table and leaning on the edge. “Good work the other night.”

None of them manage to stop themselves from beaming with pride.

“I just wanted to inform you we won’t be planning another job for another few months,” he continues.

“Is something wrong?” Lydia queries immediately.

“No, no,” Deaton assures, waving a hand dismissively. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Lydia purses her lips but remain quiet. So Allison asks, “Should we be worried?” instead.

“Not at all,” Deaton replies. “You all have more important things to focus on right now what with the showcase coming up and your end of year projects. And I know Scott has important exams in the next few weeks,” he adds, directing it to Allison. “I just wanted to let you all know. Oh, and I’ll arrange a meeting in two days to give you your payments. Allison, can you let Scott know?”

After they all nod their assent, he dismisses them with a calm smile and a nod.

Isaac quickly starts jogging ahead only throwing an, “I’m late for class!” over his shoulder as he passes Lydia and Allison.

Allison laughs, shaking her head; Isaac is the epitome of a scatter-brain.

“Did you think that was weird?” Lydia asks as soon as they’re out of the art building.

“What d’you mean?” Allison asks. She’s gotten used to Deaton’s oddities now, she doesn’t question it anymore.

“Well, we always take a few months between jobs. Why did he feel the need to specifically tell us this time?”

“Yeah but we usually spend those few months planning. Maybe he means we won’t start planning for another couple of months,” she guesses.

“I don’t know. Something just felt off.”

“What? You mean you think something happened?” Allison frowns. She can admit something wasn’t right about the way Deaton was talking to them. But it’s Deaton. When has he ever acted like a normal human being?

Lydia shrugs, “Maybe.”

“I guess there’s no point in worrying about it,” she answers, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets. “Even if something  _did_  happen, Deaton’s obviously making sure we’re lying low.”

*

Scott is lounging on the couch, typing up an assignment when Allison gets home.

“Hey handsome,” she says, kissing the top of his head as she passes the back of the couch on the way to the kitchen.

“Hey!” he calls after her. She returns to the living room, handing one of the beers in her hand off to him before lifting his legs so she can sit down and settles them on her lap.

“How was your day?” she asks, flipping on the TV.

“Good,” he replies, closing the lid of his laptop and stretching. He catches Allison’s amused little grin and rolls his eyes fondly.  _You look like a cat_ , she always says. “My last class was cancelled so I got way more of that assignment done than I had planned. What about you?”

“My day was fine,” she sighs, relaxing into the couch cushions. “Deaton wants us to meet with him in the next couple of days to get our payment.”

Scott nods, watches the tension in the set of Allison’s shoulders then sets his laptop on the floor and his beer on a coaster before shuffling around a bit on the couch until Allison’s back is against his chest so he can start rubbing her shoulders. She always tells Scott she keeps him around for a lot of reasons but his massages are at least number two on the list.

She sighs when he kneads his fingers into the tense area between her shoulder blades and leans into his touch. “What’s wrong?” he mumbles, still focusing on massaging her upper back.

Allison’s shoulders shrug underneath his hands, “I don’t know, the meeting we had with Deaton today was weird.”

“Weird how?” Scott presses.

“He said we wouldn’t be planning another heist for a few months.”

“Not exactly uncommon,” Scott comments.

“Yeah but he’s never told us in advance before,” Allison counters.

“You think something happened?” he guesses.

“Lydia does,” she replies.

“And you?”

“I’m not sure,” Allison answers after a while before sighing again when Scott’s thumbs dig into the knot in her shoulders. “What I  _am_  sure of however, is that you have magic hands.”

Scott chuckles when Allison goes boneless beneath his hands, sinking completely back against his chest. He smiles down at her and kisses the side of her head, slipping his arms from her shoulders to around her waist and hugging her close.

“So did you run into our new neighbours today?” Allison asks after a while and Scott huffs a laugh.

“No but I definitely heard them.”

Allison cranes her head back to looks at Scott, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Not like that!” he says, rolling his eyes as she snickers. “They fight like an old married couple. I heard them arguing on the way to the elevator and when they came back up over an hour later, they were fighting about something completely different.”

“They sound like Lydia and Jackson,” Allison scoffs.

“Nah,” Scott denies. “They seem way more affectionate than those two.”

Allison giggles – something she used never do because she felt it was too girly – and plays with Scott’s fingers. “We should invite them over for dinner.”

“Like cook for them?” Scott asks, brow furrowed.

“Well…order take-out for them?” Allison corrects herself sheepishly – they’re both hopeless at cooking.

“Yeah,” Scott agrees with a smile. “They probably don’t know many people around this neighbourhood.”

Allison hums in acknowledgement.

“So…are you going to ask or am I?” he asks after a moment.

Allison looks back at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Does it matter?”

Scott flounders for a second as he tries to find the right words. “It’s just…they seem like the kind of couple who’d y’know…”

Allison shrugs, shaking her head. She totally knows, she just wants to make Scott say it. She can be evil like that.

“They seem like the type of couple who’d want to “christen” their new apartment,” he says, completely devoid of subtlety.

Allison’s face goes blank for a second before she bursts out laughing. Scott rolls his eyes again, pretending to push her off the couch but she clings to him with her kung-foo death grip and screams, “Don’t you dare!”

He laughs, pulling her back up on the couch so she’s sitting properly again.

“Just for that,  _you_ can go invite them over,” Allison announces.

Scott makes a wounded noise, “But what if they’re  _christening_ their apartment?”

“You mean like we did?” Allison asks with a sly grin.

“We weren’t that bad,” Scott reasons.

“Lydia made us disinfect the couch before she’d sit on it again.”

“It’s not my fault she came round with a housewarming gift when we were busy.”

Allison laughs like it’s against her better judgment to do so and tries to push him off the couch. “Go!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Scott stumbles a bit as he makes his way to the door. “Love you!” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves.

“You’re only going across the hall!” Allison calls back.

Scott pokes his head back in the doorway, “Yeah but I still love you.”

Allison tries not to find him adorable and fails miserably. “Love you too,” she replies. “Now go invite them to dinner!” she demands, aiming a cushion for Scott’s head as he disappears out the door again.

 *

Stiles comes into the living room while Derek’s cleaning his sniper rifle and lets out the mother of all sighs.

Derek pauses in his ministrations, looking up at him, “What?”

“Do you have to do that out here?” Stiles demands sounding exactly like the nagging husband Derek doesn’t remember marrying.

“I’m cleaning it,” he replies simply.

“What if someone walks in?”

“Our door’s locked,” Derek shrugs.

Stiles scowls at him, “At least do it in the bedroom. Jesus Derek, we’re trying to be subtle.”

At that moment, there’s a knock at the door and Stiles turns to him with most self-satisfied, “I told you so,” look before trying to shoo Derek to the bedroom. “I told you not to do that out here where people could see.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles pauses on his way to the door and whirls around long-sufferingly, “ _What?”_

“The walls are thin,” Derek tells him in an exaggerated whisper.

Stiles stares at him with wide eyes for a minute and Derek can pinpoint the exact moment he’s finished running through their conversation in his head and what it would sound like to someone not in the room.

He glares  _hard_ when a noise escapes Derek’s lips as he tries not to laugh and then Stiles mimes strangling him. “Oh would you just-“ There’s another knock on the door and Stiles yells, “Coming!” in a slightly hysterical voice.

Derek snorts on his way to the bedroom to put his gun away.

“I will murder you in your sleep, Derek Hale,” Stiles whisper-yells. “Shut the fuck up so I can answer the door.”

Derek’s in the bedroom for the first few second of the conversation but when he returns he sees Stiles leaning against the doorjamb talking to Scott.

“-ordering take-out, if you wanna come over?” Derek hears the tail end of what Scott’s saying as he comes up behind Stiles.

He puts a hand on Stiles’ hip for appearance’s sake and Stiles leans into him a bit as he looks over his shoulder to Derek, his eyebrows raised in a question. “You hungry?” he asks. It’s for show because they both know they have to take advantage of a golden opportunity like this.

If Scott and Allison are inviting them into their home it means Stiles and Derek can start to get to work on watching their habits tonight.

So Derek smiles appreciatively and says, “Starving.”

Scott beams at him, “Awesome! So are you guys ready now or…?”

“Just give us a few, we’ll be over in a sec,” Stiles promises, not closing the door until Scott’s back in his own apartment. “We still haven’t talked about how we’re gonna play this whole relationship thing.”

“Just act like we always act around each other,” Derek responds, shrugging.

“You mean insult each other?” Stiles clarifies.

Derek rolls his eyes, “No- just…Look do you really think we look like the kind of people who have a cute, PDA-filled relationship?”

“No,” Stiles admits.

“Exactly,” Derek nods, satisfied. “So let’s just go over there, act the way we normally do and add in a few casual touches here and there. We can discuss things properly when we get home.”

“What if they ask stories about how we met?”

“Then bullshit. You’re good at that,” he adds drily. “As long as one of us leads the story, we don’t overstep each other and we stick as close to the truth as possible without actually giving ourselves away, we should be fine.”

Stiles nods in acceptance, moving to open the door again.

“And remember-“

“Pay attention. I know, Derek,” Stiles tells him with an exasperated smile.

Derek gives him a small smile back and follows him out the door. They’ve got this.

 

Dinner is disappointing. That is to say, Derek was kind of hoping Scott and Allison would do something to prove they’re abhorrent human beings but no dice.

They’re  _nice_  – and Derek doesn’t use that term lightly.

Allison chokes on a bite of pizza when Stiles gets to the punchline of his story and Scott, still laughing himself, hands her a glass of water and rubs her back soothingly.

Scott turns his beaming smile – he seems to do that a lot – back to Stiles, “Man, you sound like me when I was a teenager. I was so clumsy, I’m pretty sure my mom wanted to wrap me in bubble wrap.”

“My dad  _did_  wrap me in bubble wrap once,” Stiles exclaims, chuckling at the memory. Derek’s seen photos. It was a Halloween costume apparently. Stiles likes to say he was dressed as a prized possession. Derek thinks it’s more likely that it was a cheap and easy way to keep Stiles distracted.

“So Derek,” Allison begins, setting her drink down. “What did you say you did again?”

“Masters in English lit.,” he replies.

“Yeah he waxes poetic a lot,” Stiles informs them, grinning and lifting an eyebrow in challenge when he catches Derek’s eye.

“At least  _I_  don’t force you to watch every shitty crime show on TV for “research”,” Derek scoffs and Stiles smacks his chest lightly.

“Shut up, it totally is for research. I need to point out all the inaccuracies,” Stiles says haughtily.

“Criminology is fun then?” Scott asks amusedly.

“The _best_ ,” Stiles insists. Derek will never get over the irony of Stiles working as an assassin to pay his way through college to become a  _detective_.

“So what do you guys do again?” Derek asks because it’s important to get the focus off him and Stiles. They’re supposed to be cataloguing facts about Scott and Allison.

“Art major,” Allison answers with an embarrassed smile.

“She’s  _amazing_ ,” Scott brags, making Allison blush. “I’m doing veterinary science.”

“That’s cool,” Stiles replies, asking them a few more questions about their majors to keep them talking but they don’t say anything of use. They mostly just explain what they’re doing in their courses, nothing incriminating.

Eventually they both run out of questions to ask that don’t sound like they’re an extreme invasion of privacy. That’s when Allison pounces.

They’ve finished their food and Allison sits back on the couch, curling into Scott’s side. She eyes Derek and Stiles sitting on the love seat across from her. They’re sitting close, legs touching and Derek has his arm slung over the back of the couch but that’s as couple-y as it goes.

“So how did you two meet?” she asks innocently.

Derek glances at Stiles, trying to figure out which one of them should answer but Stiles ploughs ahead without prompting. “We knew each other when we were kids. Our parents were friends.”

It’s kind of the truth. His mom and Stiles’ mom worked together and they grew up in the same town. They knew each other but it was more that they knew  _of_  each other rather than childhood best friends.

“I fawned over Derek and he wouldn’t give me the time of day,” Stiles continues and – wait, what?

“That’s not true,” Derek protests. “You always ignored me.”

“Because you  _intimidated_  me,” Stiles huffs. “You were mean.”

“Ever heard of pigtail-pulling, Stiles?” Derek scoffs.

Stiles makes an indignant noise and there’s a muffled laugh from the other side of the room. Derek hadn’t even realised he and Stiles had turned to face each other when they were arguing. They both snap to attention and look back at Scott and Allison who are sporting knowing grins.

“So, love at first sight then?” Scott laughs.

Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves Derek’s shoulder. “I guess,” he mumbles.

“What about you two?” Derek asks, deflecting again. Partly because it’s what he’s supposed to do and partly because that conversation just felt way too real. “Surely your story’s better than ours?”

Allison tenses for a second and Derek can see Stiles throwing him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. How they met has something to do with the gallery robberies then.

Scott answers easily though, squeezing Allison’s shoulder in a way that shouldn’t be noticeable but Derek is trained to see. “Allison was bitten by a dog. It was pretty late at night and I was closing up the coffee shop I used to work at. I patched her up.”

“My hero,” Allison says sarcastically but she still rolls her eyes affectionately as she ruffles Scott’s hair.

“It’s cuter than our story at least,” Stiles jokes and the weird tension that had been in the room the past few minutes drops. Thank god because the last thing they need is Scott and Allison avoiding them after this.

Derek decides to cut the evening short while they’re at a good place. “We should probably call it a night,” he says apologetically, placing a hand on Stiles’ knee as he sits forward. “We’re pretty wrecked after all the moving the past couple of days.”

“Of course,” Allison nods in understanding, pulling herself and Scott up to show them to the door.

“We had a really nice time,” Stiles says just as they’re leaving. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Definitely,” Scott agrees.

 

Stiles stares at the king size bed in their room like he’s trying to solve a math equation. “I still don’t understand why we had to go all the way back to the furniture store today and swap in our singles,” he laments.

“Because  _someone_ ,” Derek says pointedly, “decided we’re a couple for the foreseeable future and since this apartment only has one bedroom, I think our new friends would be pretty concerned if they ever learned we were sleeping in separate beds.”

Stiles scowls at him before huffing. “I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to. You just stay on your side of the bed and I’ll stay on mine and there’ll be no problems,” Derek replies succinctly.

“Kick me and I’ll kick you back.”

“Hog the blanket and you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Drool on me and I’ll shave your eyebrows off.”

“Snore and you’ll wake up with “I heart Derek” written on your forehead in permanent marker.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, “You wouldn’t.”

Derek just raises his eyebrows and gives him a look that says, “Try me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

*

Later that night Scott and Allison are in bed, lying on their sides, facing each other and talking about dinner.

“I like them,” Allison says. “They seem really nice.”

“Yeah, I think they’re good guys,” Scott replies sleepily. He blinks a few times trying to keep his eyes open and asks, “Hey where are we putting the extra money this month?”

“That homeless shelter we passed the other day, right?” she asks, inching closer to Scott. “It looked like there was a leak in the roof.”

“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead.

Allison smiles softly, knotting their fingers together.

He makes her a better person.

He was the one who suggested using the money they made to help those who needed it. He was the one who made her believe she could be strong and be girly at the same time. He was the one who made her realise she can take care of herself but she doesn’t always have to.

“What’re you thinking about?” he mumbles and Allison realises she’s been zoned out for a few minutes.

“Just how much I love you,” she replies as if it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it kind of is at this point. Scott snorts and she holds back her grin.

“I mean,  _seriously_ ,” he says, a laugh in his voice.

Allison eyes flick up to meet his gaze, “I  _am_  being serious,” she says quietly.

Scott’s face goes blank for a moment before it settles into a smile and he leans forward to kiss her. “I love you too,” he whispers against her lips. He presses their foreheads together and Allison darts in to kiss him once more before curling into him and closing her eyes.

“What would I do without you?” she asks, not really expecting an answer since she’s sleepy and Scott’s warm and she feels  _happy_  – something she wasn’t for a long time before she met him.

“Probably kick a lot of ass and become president,” he says as if that’s a completely normal response.

Allison picks her head up off his chest and raises an eyebrow at him, “Are you saying I couldn’t do that with you at my side?”

“You mean I could be your first lady?” Scott asks in excitement, smiling contentedly when Allison starts laughing.

“First gentleman,” she corrects, pecking him on the lips before pulling back with a frown on her face. “It is first gentleman, right?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care,” Scott shrugs. “As long as I get to see you rule the world you can call me whatever you want.”

“Sounds kinky,” Allison says around a yawn, pillowing her head on Scott’s chest again.

“Thought you might appreciate it.”

Allison giggles as she feels Scott pull the blanket up around them. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” she nods, seeking out Scott’s hand and interlinking their fingers again as she closes her eyes.

Allison had been alone for a long time before Scott.

When Deaton got her involved in his business, it became important to her because art was important to her and because she’d found friends – a  _best_  friend in Lydia. But there was something missing. From the moment she’d moved to the city for college she’d felt like she had something to prove.

Her family hadn’t exactly been thrilled when she said she wanted to be an artist. Well, her dad had been kind of supportive but her mom wasn’t happy. She was supposed to follow the family business. She was supposed to be tougher than this.

Art was for shrinking violets, wallflowers with no way of expression; not her.

Deaton’s proposition gave her an opportunity. She could do what she loved but do it in a way that’d make her family proud. It made her isolate herself to an extent. Not let Lydia or any of the others the whole way in. Because she was so set on doing this alone, on proving she  _could_  do it alone.

It wasn’t until she met Scott that she realised she could have the best of both worlds. He made her open up, soften but also become tougher. He gave her the confidence she needed to be the person she wanted. He was her safety net. He made her spend more time with Lydia – something she will forever be grateful for.

“I can take care of myself,” used to be something of a defence mechanism for her. She used to say she didn’t need anybody, that she was strong enough on her own, that she didn’t need saving. And yeah, she didn’t but she didn’t believe in herself enough to believe what she was saying.

Until Scott reminded her. And then Lydia did. And then Deaton. And then everyone else she cared about.

She _is_  strong enough on her own. But wolves hunt in packs for a reason.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright. Spill,” Derek demands.
> 
> Stiles sighs exaggeratedly, throwing himself back against the cushions. “Scott’s so _cool_.”
> 
> Oh for the love of-
> 
> “Stiles.” Derek levels him with a disapproving look. “You do remember why we’re spending time with these people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little bit shorter since it's, for lack of a better word, the filler chapter. It's mostly just to set up the next three chapters but even so, I hope you like it ^.^

Derek is about to go for his morning run – Stiles is still in bed, he says it’s inhumane to get up before the clock’s in double digits – when he hears someone calling his name.

“Derek, hey,” Allison greets as she jogs up to him. She’s dressed in leggings and a tank top, her hair up in a messy ponytail. Immediately he knows he won’t be going on this run alone.

“Hey, going for a run?” he asks casually, gesturing to her attire.

Allison looks down at herself and laughs, “You caught me! You doing the same?”

She starts moving out the door of their apartment building so he follows after her. “Yeah, figured I’d find out of the best route for this part of the city. Got any suggestions?”

Allison pauses in stretching out her muscles and appraises him, “You think you could keep up if you ran with me?”

Derek scoffs in a way that’s probably way more arrogant than he means it to be but she only laughs.

“Come on, I’ll show you the best route to avoid crabby New Yorkers on their way to work.” She starts jogging on the spot before heading down the street. Derek quickly takes after her and catches up.

“Just so you know,” he says. “I don’t like to talk when I run.” It’s probably counter-productive since he should be trying to milk her for whatever information he can but his morning run starts his day off right. If that’s ruined by someone yammering in his ear, he’ll be on a warpath for the rest of the day.

Allison huffs a laugh, speeding up a little. “Good. Neither do I.”

Allison leads them on a trail that winds through a park Derek didn’t even know existed. She pushes herself hard and barely looks out of breath. Derek’s begrudgingly impressed. When they’ve been running for half an hour Allison stops in the park and buys two waters from the vendor, handing one off to Derek.

“You didn’t have to-“ he starts to say but Allison brushes him off.

“My treat,” she shrugs, taking a long gulp out of her own bottle and sitting down on the bench.

After a moment’s deliberation, Derek does the same.

“Does Scott ever run with you?”

Allison smiles faintly, “Nah, he used to have really bad asthma as a kid. He’s a lot better now but still, he doesn’t like to push himself too hard.”

Derek’s surprised at that. From what he’s seen of Scott, he looks to be in pretty good shape. Would have to be if he ever had to run away from a crime scene. “You wouldn’t think it,” is all he says to Allison.

“He works out in other ways, he just can’t keep up with me when I run,” she replies, a hint of smugness in her voice. “What about Stiles? Does he run?”

Derek doesn’t mean for a laugh to escape but well, it’s  _Stiles._ “Uh not exactly. I mean, he’s pretty good at it but he usually gets bored after five minutes and challenges me to a race instead.”

Allison laughs lightly, “Sounds like something Scott would do.”

Derek smiles in spite of himself and then berates himself. He’s not supposed to be enjoying this. He’s not supposed to be hearing Allison’s stories about Scott and thinking fondly about how well he and Stiles would get along. He’s not supposed to like talking to Allison with her calming demeanour and shrewd eye and killer running pace. He’s not supposed to be settling into this as if it were his life.

He’s supposed to be cataloguing away the fact that Scott has trouble breathing and that they could use that to their advantage.

Instead he lets Allison grab his wrist and pull him up off the bench to start running home.

They get back to the apartment block around 8:30. Allison laughs to herself as she reaches her door and Derek turns to see her reading a note that had been attached to her door. When she catches his eye she holds out the piece of paper in her hand for him to see.

It says:  _“Took the subway to class with Stiles! : )_

_Meet you for lunch at 1 <3”_

“Stiles must have made him a pretty good bargain. Scott is  _not_  a morning person,” she says. She’s wearing the smile Derek has started to notice she only uses when she talks about Scott. It makes something clench in his heart knowing how blissfully in love they are, knowing that he’ll probably never have that as long as he’s in this business, knowing that he’s going to take that love away from them.

“Neither is Stiles,” he answers lightly because he isn’t. It doesn’t even make sense that he’s already up and out of the apartment. Because when Derek got up this morning Stiles groaned pitifully and pulled Derek’s pillow over his head, grumbling about how he was going to murder Derek in his sleep for waking him up. It should probably worry him that the thought of Stiles making death threats at him makes Derek want to grin like a five-year-old but that’s kind of a testament to their friendship.

Allison’s smile changes to one that’s all dimples and she tells Derek she’ll catch him later before skipping inside.

Derek pushes away any thoughts about how he might’ve found a new friend.

*

Stiles is really weird.

Scott might be a little bit platonically in love with him.

Stiles is just finishing regaling him with yet another bizarre tale and Scott has honest-to-god tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. It’s nice getting to talk to someone like Stiles. Lydia’s humour is pretty cut-throat and Isaac’s sarcasm is only mildly less biting. But even though Stiles is sarcastic as hell, he’s also goofy and flaily and awkward and Scott’s feeling a serious bond right now that Stiles declares is the sacred bond between “brothers-from-another-mother” after talking to Scott about video games for twenty minutes straight without taking a breath.

“Man, you have no idea how good it is to talk to someone about this stuff,” he sighs, clapping Scott on the shoulder as they step off the subway. “Derek  _hates_  video games.”

Scott gets the feeling Stiles doesn’t really have anyone else besides Derek in his life.

“Allison doesn’t but I don’t really play with her since she kicks my ass no matter what we play in about five seconds flat,” Scott replies. He really doesn’t mind when she beats him since she’s literally the most competitive person he’s ever met and honestly, it’s kind of hot. But every now and again he’d like at least the illusion of being able to win a game.

Stiles lets out a hearty laugh, trailing after Scott up the steps. “That’s  _amazing!”_

Scott grins because yeah, Allison’s pretty amazing.

“If you want, you could come over later? We could play?” Scott offers, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

“Won’t Allison try and join in and royally kick both our asses though?”

Scott chuckles, “Nah, she’s working on her art project. Besides, the first time you play she’ll let you win so she can sneak attack you later on,” he adds with a proud grin.

Stiles only laughs again, “Oh man, a woman after my own heart. But yeah, video games sound good. I can probably meet you around four?”

“You got it!” Scott replies enthusiastically. It could be nice to have a friend like Stiles. Someone who likes all the same stuff he likes, who he can goof off with, someone to talk to when Allison’s with Lydia. Yeah he has Isaac and he cares about him a lot but Isaac’s always sort of held himself aloof and doesn’t really let anyone get too close. Scott suspects it’s something to with his past but he knows better than to pry.

They stop at the building where Stiles’ first class is and he turns to say goodbye. For a second there’s this look on his face Scott can’t parse. It’s regret or shame or something but it clears up almost instantaneously as he claps Scott on the shoulders again. “Alright buddy, I’ll see you later.”

Scott gives a him genuine smile before heading on towards his own class.

*

The next couple of weeks are complicated.

Stiles doesn’t mean to do it - he really doesn’t – but he sort of gets used to this life. Because Scott and Allison are  _fun_  and he’s missed having friends. So he sort of stops trying to find out information about them and instead just kind of likes hearing their stories. And the weirdest thing is that he starts telling them stories in return. Stories only Derek knows.

And that’s another weird thing. Him and Derek. Because it’s actually kind of ridiculously easy to pretend to be Derek’s boyfriend. Like easier than he ever thought possible.

Sure after that first night at Scott and Allison’s they sat down and got their stories straight, figured out their game plan about how they were gonna do this but it’s more than that.

He likes being able to lean into Derek at the end of the day when he’s tired from classes and planning. He likes being able to play with the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck and not have to explain himself because Scott and Allison only look at him as if to say, “I get it.” He and Derek have always been tactile to an extent but it feels like it means more now and Stiles refuses to read into it.

He can see Derek slipping up too though. Mostly because he notices the moments where Derek remembers. Because they could be talking or laughing or watching a movie or whatever and Derek will jolt. It’s not noticeable and the only reason Stiles even feels it is because they sit so close together now. But he catches that moment in Derek’s eye where he remembers this is all an act, that they’re working – or more pointedly, that they’re  _not_  working. At least not the way they should be.

It means that Stiles forgets himself too often.

It’s dangerous.

*

Stiles is over at their place like he’s grown accustomed to doing when Derek has extra classes on Tuesday.

He’s watching Allison paint, adding a comment here and there to make her laugh and almost mess up a brush stroke. She likes his company. He’s good at filling silences but he’s also good at knowing when to let those silences be. It’s a rare quality.

Scott comes bustling through the door at four like he always does on a Tuesday, patting Stiles’ shoulder as he passes behind the couch and then stooping down to kiss Allison’s cheek. He drops his bag and flops down onto the couch, murmuring his greetings.

“How was your day?” Allison asks because Scott has the kind of smile on his face that means he’s hiding something and it’s gonna burst out of him any minute.

He turns to Allison, his grin widening as if he’s given up completely on drawing this out. “We can sign the adoption papers tomorrow!”

Allison would react…if it weren’t for the fact Stiles literally falls off the couch in shock.  _“_ Adoption papers? You’re getting a baby?! _What?!”_  His voice is about ten octaves higher than usual and his eyes are widened to a frankly alarming state.

She can’t even be happy about what Scott just said, she’s too busy trying not keel over laughing at Stiles’ face.

Scott – bless his heart – tries to explain without laughing but he’s fighting a losing battle. Once he finally calms down enough, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he levels Stiles with a serious look. “Yes, adoption papers. For a cat.”

Stiles’ face goes from horrified to confused. “Wait, what?”

“We’re adopting a cat from the animal shelter,” Allison replies when she manages to stop laughing.

“Oh,” Stiles says blankly before his cheeks colour and he looks slightly abashed. “That’s…awesome actually. I should get Derek a cat. Because cats hate everyone and are really cranky. They’d get on like a house on fire.” He winces. At what, Allison doesn’t know but he makes an obvious effort to recover.

“Dude!” Scott says excitedly. “You should  _totally_  get a cat. Then our cats could be bros.”

Stiles looks at Scott like he just told him the secret to the universe and Allison huffs a laugh before shaking her head and returning to her painting. She’s pretty sure Scott found his brotherly soul mate in Stiles.

“That. Is. An.  _Awesome_  idea, Scotty,” he agrees enthusiastically. “I’m gonna tell Derek as soon as he gets home.”

Scott looks extremely pleased with himself at that and Allison snorts. “Stiles, Derek’s not gonna let you get a cat,” she says reasonably.

“He will if I ask nicely,” he replies, making what, she assumes, is supposed to be an angelic expression.

Allison raises a dubious eyebrow and says, “Maybe you should get Scott to school you on the puppy dog look before you ask.”

Stiles turns to Scott expectantly, who looks down bashfully before very seriously making a list of pointers for Stiles and demonstrating.

Her boyfriend’s literally 95% puppy, she’s sure of it.

 *

Derek’s barely in the door when Stiles is piping up and saying, “Hey Derek, we should get a cat.”

Derek freezes in the entryway and stares at him in utter bewilderment. “And why is that?” he asks eventually.

“Because Scott and Allison are getting a cat and me and Scott think are cats should grow up together,” Stiles replies easily.

Derek’s face goes through a series of complicated expressions before he settles on a frown. “Stiles,” he says with a resigned sigh, moving properly into the living room area.

“What?”

“Stop doing this,” he pleads. He looks strung out and resigned and stressed and Stiles doesn’t really understand why.

“Doing what?” Stiles asks because it honestly feels like he and Derek are having two different conversations right now.

“ _Nesting!”_  Derek snaps. “Stop pretending this is our life. Stop pretending we could  _have_  this life.”

Stiles doesn’t mean to but he flinches. And of course, Derek notices and his face closes off. He draws himself in and bypasses the couch entirely, heading for their bedroom.

Stiles gives him a minute before heaving himself up off the couch and following him. Derek’s lying on their bed, staring at the wall with his back facing Stiles when he enters the room.

Gently, he leavers himself onto the bed and lies on his back next to Derek. “We don’t walk away from fights,” he says quietly. “We talk. That’s always been our promise.”

Derek sighs and rolls onto his back, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad,” he replies gently.

Derek rolls his head to the side to look at him, Stiles meets his gaze steadily. “None of this is real, Stiles,” he whispers.

Stiles bites his lip because at the end of the day, Derek’s right. He’s deluding himself. “I know,” he answers softly. “It’s just nice to pretend sometimes.”

Derek nods imperceptibly and Stiles thinks he gets it. Because even if he wouldn’t trade his life for the world, it gets really hard sometimes. At least he’ll always have Derek.

“I’ll stop. I promise.”

*

Allison’s in art class perfecting her paintings and putting the finishing touches on them. Per Deaton’s request, she’d painted two to be sold at the charity ball and she’s willing to showcase her other collection but she’s not selling it. That one’s hers to keep. The art room’s pretty much in mayhem what with everyone trying to finish up for the ball in two weeks.

She looks down to her side table where the newspaper under her paints and water has completely soaked through from the frantic dab of her brush every time she went to wash it or retrieve more paint. Looking up, she spots Isaac by the supply of old newspapers, about to make his way back to his seat.

“Isaac, grab me a newspaper, would you?”

He nods at her before grabbing one and jogging over. “Your newspaper,” he says, holding it out to her with a flourish.

Allison rolls her eyes at him fondly, taking it from him and saying thanks.

He chuckles, gives her a soldier’s salute – something he  _definitely_  picked up from Scott - and strolls off.

She sets her palette and bowl of water on the floor, about to swap the newspapers out when something catches her eye. She unfolds the sheet of newspaper in her hand and right there in the headline is the name. Peter Hale.

 _Hale_. As in- no, but it couldn’t be, could it?

Hale was a pretty common name. It’s a coincidence. Derek couldn’t be related to him. She looks around but no one’s paying attention to her. Carefully, she folds the paper up again and shoves it in the pocket of her painting smock. She stands up and slips out of the room unnoticed, taking out her phone and flipping through her contacts.

When she finds the one she’s looking for she presses the call button and holds the phone to her ear. He answers on the second ring. “Danny? I need you to find something out for me.”

“ _Shoot!”_

“Find out if Derek and Peter Hale are related.”

There’s a pause on the other end of line and she’s afraid he’s going to start asking questions but Danny replies after a moment,  _“Sure. I’ll get back to you.”_

“Thanks.”

*

Stiles stumbles into their apartment looking like, for lack of a better phrase, he just got his first kiss and it happened on a fucking  _cloud_.

“Where’ve you been?” Derek asks conversationally.

“Nowhere,” Stiles says casually, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he meanders over to the couch. “Just over at Scott and Allison’s. Y’know. Gathering intel and whatnot.”

Derek eyes him sceptically but Stiles just shrugs innocently. “Alright. Spill,” Derek demands.

Stiles sighs exaggeratedly, throwing himself back against the cushions. “Scott’s so  _cool_.”

Oh for the love of-

“Stiles.” Derek levels him with a disapproving look. “You do remember why we’re spending time with these people.”

Stiles gives him a cranky look before sitting up properly and grasping Derek’s shoulder. “I know. But Derek, he’s just- he’s so funny and nice and has like, the most infectious personality ever. You know he was telling me about the animals he used to save back home? I wanted to  _cry_ , Derek.”

“Pretty sure Allison’ll kill you if you try to steal her boyfriend,” Derek tells him.

“Not like we aren’t already planning on killing him ourselves,” Stiles mumbles, suddenly pulling away from Derek and looking down.

“Hey,” Derek says gently, scooting over until their knees are touching. “It’s our job, remember? We don’t have to like it.”

He’d been afraid this would happen and he already knew it kind of was after their fight last week. They don’t usually interact with their clients unless it’s a tough case. Sure they always plan and take time to carry out a mission but they keep their distance so it doesn’t get personal or dangerous for them.

Stiles looks up at him, frustration warring with sadness behind his eyes. “It’s not fair,” he says desolately. “They seem like good people. And don’t say you don’t agree because I _know_  you’ve been going running with Allison every morning and you  _never_  go running with anyone but yourself.”

“I was trying to gain information,” he says weakly and Stiles narrows his eyes.

“You also hate talking while you’re running.”

“It doesn’t matter, Stiles.” And then he pulls out the big guns, the thing that really makes him feel ashamed. He says, “She’s an Argent.”

Stiles stares at him for a long time but Derek refuses to meet his gaze. Eventually Stiles says, “No, she’s a person. Argent is just her last name.”

He gets up after that, heads straight for the bedroom and slams the door. Derek doesn’t stop him.

*

Derek and Stiles are over for dinner, which seems to be the recurring theme on Fridays nowadays. They seem a little tense. Well, they always seem a little tense so, more tense than usual.

In fact, Allison seems a little tense too but she relaxes when they’re finished their food and lies down, pillowing her head in Scott’s lap. When he asks if everything’s okay she says she’s just stressed about the showcase so he plays with her hair because he knows how much it calms her down.

And then Scott remembers, “Hey yeah! The showcase, we were supposed to say it to you guys the other day,” he says, looking over to Derek and Stiles. “Allison’s art class is hosting this ball. They do it every year. The students can paint pieces for it and then the rich folks buy them and the money goes to charity. You in?”

Stiles snorts, “Do we look rich?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Scott grins. “What I  _meant_  was that there’s gonna be free food and booze and you should come and support Allison.”

Stiles looks down at Allison and smiles warmly before looking back at Derek. They have a silent conversation with their eyebrows – they do that a lot – and then Derek smiles and says, “We’d love to.”

“Awesome.” Scott feels Allison smile from where he’s tracing his thumb over her cheek.

A while later Allison’s asleep and Scott’s still twirling her curls around his finger before letting them fall and starting again. Across from him, Stiles and Derek have thawed out some and Stiles is dead to the world tucked into Derek’s side.

Scott meets Derek’s eye and smiles softly, “He’s crazy about you, y’know?”

Derek startles a bit, looks down at where is arm is wrapped securely around Stiles and then looks back to Scott. “He’s pretty mad at me right now,” he admits after a moment.

“I kinda figured,” Scott answers. At Derek’s surprised look he says, “You both seemed more keyed up than usual today. It’s why I said what I just did.”

Derek smiles slightly, like he doesn’t mean to. He looks down at Stiles, unconsciously pulls him closer. “I’m crazy about him too.” It looks like it physically pains him to say it but there’s a softness in his voice that can’t be anything other than love. Scott knows. He recognises it from himself.

Derek seems to shake himself out of the moment and looks back at Scott and Allison. “I guess I don’t need to tell you she’s crazy about you?”

Scott grins, knows it’s plain as day on his face how fucking in love with her he is. “Nah, she tells me enough.”

“You’re lucky to have each other.”

“I know,” he replies, not taking his eyes off her. Eventually he looks back to Derek when he says, “We should get going.”

“Yeah, dude, let me just put Allison to bed and I’ll come back out to say goodnight.” Derek nods tiredly at him and then Scott gently rolls Allison onto her back, getting one his arms under her back and the other under her knees. He stands up and tries his best not to jostle her.

“Back in a sec,” he whispers over his shoulder before making his way down the hallway.

*

As soon as Scott’s out of the room Derek nudges Stiles gently. “Stiles, wake up.”

Stiles grumbles in his sleep, tries to bury his face deeper in the crook of Derek’s neck. It makes him feel like he’s been split open inside. But he’ll deal with that later. “Stiles, it’s time to go.” 

Stiles groans this time, obviously waking up. “Ugh you’re the worst fake boyfriend ever.”

“Keep it down, we’re still at Scott and Allison’s.”

Stiles cracks an eye open, scowls at him but sits up. “Time is it?” he yawns, stretching. Derek very pointedly does not pay attention to the way his t-shirt rides up.

“Just after midnight,” he murmurs. Stiles nods sleepily and then Scott’s returning.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he grins when he sees Stiles sitting up. Stiles scoffs as Derek pulls him up off the couch. He lets Stiles lean heavily on them as they make their way to the door and he only pulls away to pull Scott into a hug and mumble, “Night Scotty.”

When Scott lets him go, he moves to give Derek a hug too. It solidifies what Derek’s been fearing all along.

Once Scott’s closed the door he looks at Stiles and says what they’re both thinking, “We can’t kill them, can we?”

Stiles stares at him for a second in surprise before shaking his head and leaning on Derek again.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s Deucalion’s address?”
> 
> There’s silence for a moment and then Danny’s voice starts with a warning, “Derek-“
> 
> “Don’t,” he replies flatly, cutting him off. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s a futile attempt to remain calm but none of this is Danny’s fault, he’s not the one he should be getting angry with. “Just. Tell me where he lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate title to this chapter is "My Ode to Allison Argent dressing like a lady and wielding a lethal weapon"
> 
> I added the non-graphic depiction of violence tag because one of the characters is attacked near the beginning but it's not really detailed. The attack itself isn't of much importance, the aftermath is. So I put the tag just in case.
> 
> Also I made a [ playlist](http://8tracks.com/allyyasavedtheday/jump-the-gun)! Which is really just a list of songs I listen to when i need to attempt to write badass scenes but have a listen if you want, and the cover is made by the lovely [ Hela](http://pillowfortposey.tumblr.com/post/82188880656/stiles-comes-into-the-living-room-while-dereks) :)

It’s been almost two months since their first meeting with Deucalion and a week and a half since Stiles and Derek decided they weren’t going to go through with the hit. They’ve been spending this whole week trying to figure out a strategy – they’re under no illusions that Deucalion is the kind of man who’ll merely accept “We changed our minds,” as an excuse.

Case in point; Stiles is walking home one night with take-out when he’s jumped.

Admittedly, walking around the streets of New York at night by yourself is never exactly safe but it’s hardly been dark thirty minutes when it happens.

He knows how to fight though – Derek taught him years ago. But he doesn’t look it, which is why they targeted him instead of Derek. It isn’t until about five seconds before it happens that he notices that they’re following him and not just walking in the same direction.

It’s all he can do to drop the food before they’re on him. All the fight training in the world couldn’t really help him with this. Not when they get him from behind and it’s three against one  _and_  their combined muscle mass probably equals six of him.

Still, he’s quick and he’s deceptively strong so it’s not like he just lies down and takes it. He goes on the defensive; darting, ducking and diving whenever he can - hitting back when he thinks he has enough leverage - but it’s not enough.

After he’s lost count of the amount of kicks, punches and shoves he’s endured, he’s on the ground. He tries to force himself back up when the biggest one bears down on him, flattens him against the gravel and leans in close. “Deucalion doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” he utters lowly before letting go of Stiles and laughing with the other two as they stalk off.

Stiles waits until he can’t hear them anymore before he tries to stand. He wobbles a bit when he’s upright but he thinks he’s okay. He takes a second to catalogue his injuries – the side of his head feels warm and wet which means blood and probably a concussion, his ribs are bruised - potentially broken - and his shin is killing him after one of those assholes stood on it when he fell.

He’s only about ten minutes away from home; he should be able to make it back without collapsing. He hopes.

 

He feels like death by the time he turns the key in the door of their apartment. The living room lights are dim and Derek’s lounging on the couch, watching the TV when he steps inside.

“What took you so long?” Derek complains. He hasn’t looked away from the TV yet. “And why don’t I smell fo-“ He stops when he finally looks over, catching sight of Stiles holding onto the wall for support.

He sits up quickly and Stiles can see the moment his eyes flash and he’s in clinical mode, checking Stiles over and drawing his own conclusions. “What happened?” he asks, voice dangerously quiet.

“Deucalion doesn’t like to be kept waiting apparently.” Stiles tries to laugh but it makes him cringe when it hurts his ribs.

Derek is up and off the couch in seconds, crowding him up against the wall and looking him over more thoroughly. He looks  _furious_.

“Derek,” Stiles says softly, petting his arm absently. “I’m  _okay_.”

Derek practically growls in response and Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek gently pulls him away from the wall, his touch in complete juxtaposition to the look on his face. He’s painstakingly careful as he slips one arm around Stiles, curling around his elbow, and holds his hand with the other.

He leads them to the bathroom, only letting go of Stiles to close the toilet seat before grabbing his shoulders and pushing him down.  He pulls out the first aid kit from underneath the sink and Stiles watches him listlessly. Derek’s going to blame himself for this. He always does.

Derek kneels down in front of him and starts wiping the blood off his face. He’s close; so close Stiles can feel the calm, measured breaths he’s taking ghosting over his face. After a few minutes he sets down the cloth he’d been using to clean Stiles’ face, frowning at the blood and dirt on it.

Derek eyes his forehead for a second – probably trying to determine if he needs stitches – but Stiles is pretty sure he’s not bleeding anymore and Derek bandages his head up without a word so he thinks he’s in the clear.

Derek gets up and turns away, opening the medicine cabinet and handing a pill bottle to Stiles before returning to the sink and filling the glass on the counter with water.

After he watches Stiles take two, he puts the bottle back in the cabinet and sets the glass on the counter again, returning to his place in front of Stiles and settling his hands on Stiles’ knees.

“Where else did they hurt you?” he asks quietly.

“My ribs are either broken or bruised,” he replies shakily. “And I’m probably gonna have a monster bruise on my shin but other than that I’m okay.”

Derek sighs, pressing their foreheads together. “Why didn’t you fight back?” he asks desperately and Stiles forces himself not to tear up. Because Derek’s close enough that he’d be able to feel it and that’d make everything ten times worse.

“There were three of them,” he mumbles, feeling Derek hands twitch on his legs. He’s angry. “They got me from behind. I did the best I could.”

Derek leans back and opens his eyes. He stares at Stiles for a long time before sighing. “Let’s get your ribs taped up,” he says eventually. “We’ll go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“We can’t let this get to the cops, Der,” Stiles protests. “It could lead back to us.”

Derek looks extremely frustrated and Stiles gets it because this entire situation is a mess. But they’ve both taken first aid classes. Stiles trusts Derek’s diagnosis.

“Fine,” he huffs. “But you’re going to bed once you’re out of the danger zone with that concussion and you’re not gonna complain  _once_  when I wake you up throughout the night to make sure you’re okay.”

Stiles glares at him, “Fine,” he parrots.

Derek only smirks at him before getting back to work.

*

Derek waits until around 2am, after he’s woken Stiles up twice already to check on him, before he slips out of the bed and into the kitchen with his phone. He has two phone calls to make. The first is to Danny.

“Dude, it’s 2am,” Danny moans when he answers.

“Like you were sleeping,” Derek scoffs and he hears Danny chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Fair enough. What’s up?”

“What’s Deucalion’s address?”

There’s silence for a moment and then Danny’s voice starts with a warning, “Derek-“

“ _Don’t_ ,” he replies flatly, cutting him off. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s a futile attempt to remain calm but none of this is Danny’s fault, he’s not the one he should be getting angry with. “Just. Tell me where he lives.”

“What happened?” Danny asks urgently. He sounds panicked in a way he  _never_  does.

“He sent his thugs after Stiles.”

There’s silence again but then Danny’s rattling off an address while Derek hastens to get a pen to write it down.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. Danny’s unobtrusive nature will always be one of the things Derek appreciates most about him.

“Wait!” Danny says before Derek can hang up. “The building’s got cameras. Let me hack the system before you go all Die Hard.”

Derek almost growls. They don’t have time for this. “How long will that take?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Not that long,” Danny replies uncertainly. “Wait for me to text you before you head inside,  _got it?”_ he demands seriously.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“Derek,” Danny says just before they hang up. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

As soon as he ends the call he gets Boyd on the phone. “I need you to come over and watch Stiles for a while,” he says without preamble.

“I’m pretty sure Stiles doesn’t need a babysitter,” Boyd answers drily.

“He was attacked,” Derek replies shortly. “He has a concussion and I need to see Deucalion but I can’t leave him on his own.”

He hears Boyd heave a sigh but then he says, “I’ll be right over,” and Derek can’t stop the grateful, fragile, “thank you,” that escapes.

Derek’s wearing a path in the carpet by the time Boyd finally arrives with Erica in tow. Before he can even open his mouth Boyd says, “Well, I wasn’t gonna leave her home alone after what just happened,” in response to Derek’s unanswered question like it’s obvious.

Derek just nods hastily, moving to the breakfast bar to grab his keys and phone. “He’s in the bedroom, if I’m not back in an hour wake him up and make sure he’s lucid before you let him go back to sleep.”

“And if he asks where you are?” Erica asks dubiously.

“Tell him I went to the store to get aspirin or something, I don’t care,” he replies dismissively. Erica’ll have his head in the morning for a being a dick but she’s graciously not saying anything right now. She can see how keyed up he is.

“Derek.”

Derek pauses at the threshold with a frustrated noise when Boyd calls him back. He tilts his head to the side just enough to show he’s listening and Boyd says, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

It trips him up for a second because this  _whole thing_  is stupid and  _he’s_  stupid for ever thinking this could be his life and for dragging Stiles into it and for thinking they could ever get away with doing this unscathed. In the end all he says is, “I won’t.”

The trip to Deucalion’s is short; Derek barely notices where he’s going anyway, he has more important things to focus on. When he gets to the building he waits outside like Danny told him to, staring imploringly at his phone until it finally lights up with a text from Danny.

“ _All clear. You’ve got 10 minutes while the reception guy tries to figure out the mess I left on his computer_ ” it says. Well, that’s his cue. Typical of Danny to give him a timeframe so he couldn’t do anything too damaging. But Derek doesn’t want to do damage. He just wants to deliver a message of his own.

He takes the elevator, jabbing the button for the third floor impatiently for the entire length of the twenty second ride. He storms down the hall as soon as the elevator doors open; pounding on Deucalion’s door once he finds it.

Deucalion opens the door irately though he doesn’t manage to get a word out before Derek’s pushing his way inside and slamming him up against the wall.

“You  _do not_  get to tell me  _or_  my partner when to do our job,” Derek snarls.

“You were taking too long-“ Deucalion tries to object, spluttering as he tries to claw at Derek’s fists where they’re keeping him up against the wall.

“We don’t respond kindly to threats,” Derek says menacingly, leaning in close. He knows how to make his voice intimidating when the situation calls and if the panicked expression on Deucalion’s face is anything to go by, he’s done his job. “Understood?”

Deucalion nods frantically, still clutching Derek’s wrists.

Derek drops him unceremoniously, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he’s in the elevator that he takes a breath to calm himself down.

He shoots Danny a text as he exits the building, letting him know he’s done and everything’s fine before hurrying home.

The whole trip takes him just under an hour so Stiles is still fast asleep when he gets home. Erica hugs him the minute he comes through the door and Boyd gives him a relieved nod.

“Everything okay?” Erica whispers when she releases him.

Derek hesitates a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder. “All taken care of,” he promises.

Boyd nods again, this time in approval, as he comes up behind Erica and puts an arm around her. “We can talk about it in the morning,” he says, clapping Derek on the back as they start to move past him to the door.

“Thanks,” Derek says meaningfully and he knows Boyd understands that he means thanks for everything. Boyd gives him a small smile before ushering Erica out the door and closing it behind him.

He kicks off his boots and leaves them in the living room, dropping his keys on the table as he passes. He pads into the bedroom, changes silently and crawls into bed next to Stiles.

Stiles rolls over to face him when the bed dips under Derek’s weight and his eyelids flutter open. “Were you talking to someone?” he mumbles sleepily.

“I called Boyd. I was just telling him what happened,” Derek soothes, gently running a hand through Stiles’ hair. “How’re you feeling?”

“Head hurts,” Stiles mutters feebly, burrowing closer to Derek. Derek lasts all of two seconds before he gives into what he wants and lets his arm slide around Stiles, pulling him in so he can rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. Stiles sighs; whether it’s with relief or contentment, Derek doesn’t know but it makes him feel better either way.

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” Derek whispers and he can feel Stiles’ smile pressed against his t-shirt.

“Maybe you’re not such a bad fake boyfriend after all,” Stiles tells him right before he drifts off.

Derek doesn’t sleep for hours.

 *

“Allison!” Scott calls, trying and failing to tie the buttons on his cuffs and glaring at his reflection in the mirror. “Are you nearly ready? We have to leave in a sec.”

Allison’s reflection appears in the mirror and he hears her laughing to herself behind him. He turns around to see her leaning against the doorframe with a shy smile on her face and his brain short-circuits.

Her hair’s curled and pulled to one side, draped over shoulder. Her red gown is…is…Scott’ll come up with a word when he can tear his eyes away. She looks like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You look…” Scott flounders, gesturing vaguely before shaking his head in bafflement and stumbling forward.

Allison grins, swaying into him as his hands settle on her waist and she winds her own around his neck. “I look…?” she prompts teasingly.

“Like whoever writes dictionaries is gonna have to come up with a new word to describe you,” he mumbles, leaning into kiss her intently.

Allison pulls back with a laugh, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Scott hums, moving to kiss along her jaw until he reaches the hinge and begins trailing his lips down her neck. There’s a moment where she sighs, leaning into him before she huffs another laugh and pushes him away.

“Okay Casanova, you’re the one who said we had to go.” She smirks but she’s blushing and looks decidedly more frazzled than she did a minute ago. Scott’s feeling pretty damn smug right now.

“Okay but first, button my cuffs?” he requests sheepishly, holding his wrists up.

Allison raises an eyebrow before shaking her head fondly, reaching for one hand and then the next. When she’s finished she leans in, kissing his nose, and looks like she wants to ruffle his hair before she decides against it and glides out of the room.

God, she’s amazing.

Scott puts on his suit jacket, checks himself once in the mirror and tries to wipe the self-satisfied grin off his face. When he can’t he just shrugs and strolls out of the room.

As soon as he gets to the living room there’s a knock at the door and he jogs over to let Stiles and Derek in.

“We called a cab. It’s waiting downstairs,” Derek says in lieu of greeting. Stiles rolls his eyes and smacks his chest lightly.

“What he means is,” Stiles says loudly. “Hey Scott, how are you? You look dreamy.”

Scott chuckles, patting them both on the back as he leads them into the apartment, “Good, what about you two?”

“Fabulous,” Stiles assures, giving him a dazzling grin that he and Derek both snort at.

“Ally! You ready?” Scott calls down the hall. “Stiles and Derek’ve got the cab waiting.”

Scott looks back to them, chewing his lip anxiously, “I think she’s pretty nervous about her paintings being on show. She’s been locked in our room all day. She says she’s been researching her art history project. I think she just wanted to have her mini freak-out in peace.”

Derek smiles amicably. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. We’ve seen her stuff, she’s really talented.” Stiles nods enthusiastically in agreement.

“Try telling her that,” Scott mutters before Allison comes hurrying out of their bedroom, slipping her phone into her clutch.

Allison looks like a deer caught in the headlights when her eyes land on Stiles and Derek. She really must be a million miles away.

“You okay?” Scott asks, slipping an arm around her waist.

She looks to him and her smile returns, “Yeah. Sorry I’m just a bit all over the place tonight. Pre-show jitters, I guess.”

“Well you, m’lady,” Stiles says with an exaggerated bow, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, much to Allison’s amusement. “Have nothing to worry about.”

Allison giggles and Derek scoffs, slinging his arm around Stiles’ neck and pulling him away. “Come on, Prince Charming,” he says long-sufferingly, dropping his arm from Stiles’ shoulders to his waist and leading him to the door. He stops though and turns to Allison. “Though he’s right. You don’t have anything to worry about,” he tells her quietly.

Allison looks surprised for a moment and almost uncomfortable at the praise but then she ducks her head and smiles. Scott presses a kiss to her temple, mumbling, “I told you I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

She rolls her eyes at him like he’s being ridiculous but she leaves the apartment with a smile on her face and a relaxed posture that’s all Scott wanted.

*

“Are you sure you’re okay to go out tonight,” Derek asks as they walk a few feet ahead of Scott and Allison out of the building. He murmurs it into Stiles’ ear so the others can’t hear but all it really does is make Stiles shiver and he seriously can’t think about  _that_  right now.

“I’m fine,” he sighs, put-upon. It’s been three days since the attack. The only noticeable sign is the gash on his forehead but it isn’t deep, which meant without stitches he was able to cover up most of it by flattening his hair.

“I just-“

“Derek,” Stiles says warningly, digging his fingers into Derek’s side as the reach the cab. Derek squirms away and glares at Stiles’ smirking face. Stiles knew he’d come to rue the day he told Stiles he was ticklish. “I’m  _fine_.”

Derek looks at him for a second too long before sighing in defeat. “Alright,” he says, holding the car door open for Stiles, Scott and Allison to climb in before taking the front seat.

*

Lydia’s the first one to greet them once they get inside, immediately sweeping Allison into a hug. “You. Look.  _Amazing_ ,” she gushes and Allison feels herself standing up a little straighter. Lydia’s seal of approval is no small feat.

“So do you,” she replies warmly. And she does. Her emerald green gown accentuates her curves perfectly and brings out the green in her eyes.

“I know,” Lydia responds loftily even as she preens under the praise. She lets go of Allison, turning her cheek so Scott can give her a kiss and a compliment before she turns her gaze to Stiles and Derek standing behind Scott and Allison.

“And who might these two fetching devils be?” she asks charmingly. Stiles practically trips over his own feet pushing forward to hold out his hand to her.

“Stiles Stilinski, at your service,” he replies, making Scott laugh quietly beside Allison and Lydia eye him speculatively,

“Lydia Martin,” she replies smoothly before casting her eye to Derek. “And this is…?”

“Derek,” he answers as he steps forward and holds out a hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you as well,” Lydia agrees with a winning smile. She slots her arm through Allison’s then, starting to drag her away. “You  _have_  to see your work. It’s right next to mine and it looks perfect.”

Allison lets herself be pulled away, laughing and blowing a kiss to Scott. She can enjoy the night for the time being.

 

When she and Lydia find the boys again Isaac’s joined them and they seem to be talking about Stiles’ major.

“You’d get along so well with our friend, Danny,” Isaac is saying when they get near. Scott links his fingers with Allison’s when she arrives next to him and hands her a drink. “Hey, have either of you seen Danny?” Isaac asks, directing it to Lydia and Allison. “I haven’t seen him all night.”

“He couldn’t come,” Allison says quickly. “He had some project to do or something.”

Isaac and Lydia look at her strangely but neither of them comments. Isaac just shrugs and changes the conversation to Derek’s Master’s.

They all seem to get along well. Isaac asks Derek countless questions about all the literature he’s read and studied and Stiles hangs on every word Lydia says, much to her delight. Scott watches them all, grinning like a proud father.

Allison has to leave before it gets to be too much. She’ll relax as soon as Danny calls.

*

Scott finds Allison standing in front of three paintings sitting side-by-side. He recognises them, of course he does. The one on the right is him and if he looks close enough he can almost see the two circles of his tattoo in the centre. The one on the left has the Argent crest in the centre, or it did before it was attacked with splashes of red. The middle painting has an almost discernible flower in the centre – Lydia’s favourite flower.

Allison’s looking at them with this sort of wide-eyed kind of wonder, like she can’t believe something she created could be up on that wall right now.

“Hey,” he says gently, coming to a stop beside her.

Allison tears her eyes away from the wall to look at him. Her eyes are shining and wet but she gives him a brilliant smile. “Hi,” she answers, her voice catching in her throat.

Scott smiles back, wrapping and arm around her and pulling her in. She slides her fingers into his hair, pressing their foreheads together, laughing the kind of dazed laugh that says she can’t even believe this is real.

He closes the gap between them, kissing her sweetly and briefly. “I’m  _so_  proud of you, Ally,” he tells her with as much sincerity as he can muster.

She nods slightly, pushing forward to peck his lips once more. “Thank you,” she whispers against his mouth.

She hugs him tight, resting her head on his shoulder and he looks at the painting once more. Part of him feels stupid for almost tearing up but knowing how important art is to Allison and knowing that she used to show him and everyone else what he means to her is surreal.

He never wants to forget this feeling; holding the most perfect girl in the world close and knowing with absolute certainty that she loves him back.

*

Allison’s standing with Scott, talking to a professor when her phone buzzes in her clutch. She slips it out while Scott and the professor are deep in conversation about Scott’s plans to internship at the Vet’s this summer and checks the text.

It’s from Danny and all it says is, “ _Meet me in the lobby_.”

Allison looks up from her phone and squeezes Scott’s arm to get his attention. “Would you both excuse me just one second?” she says, smiling apologetically. The professor waves her way with a polite smile but Scott looks at her quizzically. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, Lydia’s just having a dress emergency,” she replies smoothly, rolling her eyes fondly for good measure.

Scott nods, letting his hand fall from her hip and she heads away, trying her best not to rush.

As soon as she’s out of sight she hurries to the lobby and finds Danny lurking in one of the corners. He nods in acknowledgement when he sees her and stands up to greet her.

“Did you find out what I asked?” she asks, cutting to the chase.

Danny nods, taking out his phone, tapping it a few times and turning it around so she can see the screen. It’s a picture of Derek with Peter Hale’s arm thrown around his shoulder. Peter has on a mischievous grin while Derek looks annoyed but the resemblance is there. “They’re related,” he says steadily.

Allison gasps despite herself. She’d wanted so badly for it to be a coincidence. “Is he-?”

“Part of Peter’s company? Yeah.”

Allison’s mind is reeling. That means- this whole time...he’s been after her.

She swallows hard and gives Danny a wan smile. “Thank you. For finding it out for me.”

Danny looks at her concernedly, reaching out for her arm but dropping his hand when she flinches back. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Allison assures, shoving down the tears and the emotions that are threatening to bubble over. She can’t deal with those right now. “I just think it might be time to go home.”

She knows what she needs to do.

*

“Man I can’t wait to change out of this suit,” Scott exclaims the minute they’re through the apartment door, already heading down the hallway to the bedroom.

Stiles pushes past Derek then, “I had to pee the whole car ride, I’ll be back!” and then he’s darting down the hallway too.

Allison smiles affectionately after them before regarding Derek calculatingly, “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” he replies warily. Something about her seems…off. She’s been acting odd all night and not in the nervous kind of way. He shrugs it off, assuming she’s just stressed out and turns to drop his jacket on the couch when he hears a faint click behind him.

He knows that noise.

Without a second thought he drops to his knee to grab his gun out of the holster around his ankle and whirls around, already aiming, to see Allison pointing her crossbow unwaveringly at his chest.

He watches her; her hair a tangle of curls around her shoulders, her make-up slightly smudged around her eyes and her dress hiked up enough so she can widen her stance. Her finger is resting on the trigger without the slightest tremor, her eyes are like steel. She looks deadly.

“So it’s true then,” she remarks without surprise, gesturing with the jut of her chin to where Derek has his gun pointed at her. “You really are Peter Hale’s nephew. You’re part of the “family business”,” she says with a sneer.

Derek’s about to reply when he hears a gasp off to the side. Fuck. Scott and Stiles.

“ _Allison!”_  Scott exclaims in horror. “ _What are you doing?”_

“Derek,” Stiles says then, quieter and lower, moving slowly between them.

“Stiles get out of the way,” Derek pleads hastily. He doesn’t need to be involved in this. Derek doesn’t think Allison knows.

“Allison, what’s going on?” Scott demands. He looks scared but he places himself firmly between them, his back to Stiles and his hands up, pleading to Allison.

“Scott, please move,” Allison says beseechingly, keeping her eyes on Derek.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“His name is Derek Hale.” Allison says like it’s enough to damn him to murder.

“I know,” Scott says calmly.

“ _Hale_. As in Peter Hale.”

That gets Scott’s attention and he takes his eyes of Allison to turn and stare at Derek like he’s never seen him before. Stiles gives Derek a frantic look and Derek tries to give him a reassuring one back.

“You…” Scott trails away like he’s putting all the pieces together. “Who  _are_  you?”

“His uncle killed my aunt Kate,” Allison supplies coldly. And there’s his trump card because Allison knows things but she clearly doesn’t know everything; only enough to lay blame to Peter.

So he chances one glance at Stiles’ pleading face then meets her eyes dead on and says, “Your aunt Kate killed my family.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s going on?” he asks, once he shuts the door.
> 
> Derek doesn’t look at them though, he looks at Stiles. “ _Danny’s_ their tech guy.”
> 
> Stiles furrows his brow, “Our Danny?”
> 
> “Yes. Our Danny,” Derek replies, rolling his eyes.
> 
> “And to think I was gonna give him a raise,” Stiles tsks, making Derek roll his eyes all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically your fic equivalent to teen wolf eps where characters all stand around a table talking about something important which usually involves flashbacks. But I tried to keep the flashback-ish bit as brief and non-exhaustive as possible since I know how much we _love_ bad guy tragic backstories ;)
> 
> So here's every little loose end explained (I think?) so shit can really go down next chapter. Enjoyyy

Derek sees it. The moment Allison falters as the words tick over in her head and sink in.

_Your aunt Kate killed my family._

Allison wilts for a second but to the untrained eye she barely moves. Stiles is frantically biting his lip and Derek wants to reach for him and smooth it out – a ridiculous thought amidst everything that’s happening, but it’s there. Scott’s looking back and forth between them like he can’t even decide which part of this to begin processing first.

Eventually he turns around to face Derek, forcing Stiles to turn too.

“Okay,” Scott says, voice strained. “I’m going to need someone to explain to me what the hell is happening.  _Right now_.” Derek’s never seen Scott angry. In every moment he’s spent with him, Scott’s never been anything but kind, open and warm. It’s almost enough to make Derek want to take a step back.

Scott doesn’t wait for Stiles or Derek to respond before he’s looking at Allison again, reaching out a careful hand. “Allison-“

“Scott, don’t.” There’s something of a desperation in her words now and Derek suddenly feels sick at this whole situation.

Allison’s twenty-two years old. Scott and Stiles are only twenty-one and Derek’s only three years older. And yet here they are, standing in a room with weapons pointed at each other, threatening to pull the trigger, trying to use whatever leverage they can against each other; no matter how much it hurts.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Ally,” Scott says again, much gentler with nothing but love. “Put the crossbow down, please.”

Derek only takes his eyes off them when he hears Stiles’ voice; quiet and pleading. “Derek…just put it down.” He sounds so resigned, like he’s too exhausting to even pretend to put up a fight at this point. Which- he’s probably right.

Derek sighs but looks over Stiles’ head to meet Allison’s eyes again. Slowly, he lets one of his hands drop from the gun, holding his hands up in surrender before setting the gun on the end-table by his knee.

Allison watches him for second, her jaw working and eyes unsure.

“Let’s hear them out,” Scott suggests. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking and we’re right,  _then_  you can shoot them.”

Allison’s mouth quirks though she tries to fight it and Stiles snorts as if Scott hadn’t just promised his girlfriend bloodshed when Stiles and Derek admit they’ve been planning to kill them this whole time.

Stiles takes a step back, aligning himself with Derek while Allison sets the crossbow down on the floor. She steps forward to take Scott’s hand and sets her steely gaze on them both, “Explain. You’ve got ten minutes.”

Stiles needs no further prompting, launching into an explanation. “What you said earlier. About Peter’s company. You were right, we’re part of it.”

Derek’s eyes flick down to where Scott’s hand tightens around Allison’s and he’s struck with the inappropriate thought that it feels like the meetings they have with potential clients. Stiles talks, Derek watches.

“You two moving here. Becoming friends with us. You were on a job,” Allison states. It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Stiles admits. “But we weren’t going to go through with it!” he adds fervently. “You really are our friends,” he insists. “…This life,” he pauses, looks at Derek with a sad smile. “We fight the bad guys, y’know? Murderers, rapists…people who’ve done really, really bad things. We didn’t exactly think stealing a few paintings warranted the same fate.”

Derek watches the shock that registers on Scott and Allison’s faces.

“Wait what? You know about that?” Scott asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Stiles replies slowly, looking between them uncertainly. “Why did you think we were doing this?”

Allison looks at Derek, “Our  _families_ \- I thought…”

“This wasn’t about us,” Derek answers steadily. It’s only partly true since seeing Allison’s name was the thing that ultimately made them accept Deucalion’s offer. But things are different now, have been for a while. “We were just doing what we were told to do.”

“Then who wants to kill us?” Scott asks in confusion.

“Deucalion,” Sties says. “He’s the owner of the art gallery you guys have been hitting up. He’s got camera footage of you. And instead of going to the police like a normal person, he came to us.”

Scott and Allison look at each other, perplexed. “How is that possible? We had the cameras disabled,” Allison tells them.

“Well he obviously had ones you guys didn’t know about. Look, we were pretty sure the guy was unhinged but it’s kind of safe to say at this point that he’s completely insane. We’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of the deal for weeks,” Stiles insists.

“Then why did  _he_  have a gun?” Scott questions, nodding to Derek.

“Because this job can leave you with a few enemies,” Derek responds calmly. “And Stiles was attacked the other day.”

He can practically  _feel_  Stiles roll his eyes next to him but he doesn’t miss the look of concern on Scott’s face and the way his eyes flick all over Stiles, searching for injuries.

“It’s been two months since we made the deal and we weren’t doing anything about it so Deucalion sent his minions after me to send a message,” Stiles shrugs as if he wasn’t half dead when he came home to Derek.

Allison shakes her head like she’s having trying desperately to understand it all. “Why should we believe you?”

“You don’t have to,” Derek says quietly. “It doesn’t change the fact we’re not going through with it.”

Scott looks at them both for a long time, looking torn before his gaze flicks to Allison and he meets their eyes again with a renewed determination. “Can you leave, please?”

“ _Scott_ -“ Stiles sounds devastated. When Derek chances a look at him, he sees the panic in his eyes.

Scott gives him a pained expression before squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing a hand over his face. “Just- I- we need time. To process. And talk and-“

“We’ll go,” Derek assures, sliding an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulling him to the door, only stopping to pick up the gun, flick on the safety and shove it in his pocket.

Allison watches in silence, stopping them just before they’re out the door. “What are you going to do?” Derek turns slightly to look at her and she hesitates before continuing. “If you’re not going through with it, how are you getting out of it?”

“We don’t know yet,” Stiles answers with a surprisingly steady voice. “But we will, don’t worry.”

Derek squeezes Stiles’ shoulder as he leads him outside, it’s not until they’re in their own apartment that Stiles looks at him. He has tears shining in his eyes; a sight Derek hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks. The words burn his throat.

Stiles scrubs at his eyes, sighing. “I haven’t cried in three years.”

“I know,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles laughs once without humour, “I came pretty close the last few weeks but this is the first time I’ve actually-“ He makes a choked off noise and Derek doesn’t hesitate to pull him in, not saying anything about the way Stiles presses his face into Derek’s shoulder to stifle his sobs.

He can’t believe he tried to make Stiles go through with this. He should’ve put an end to it before it even started. Stiles had doubts from the beginning; he’s only been doing this for Derek.

“We’ll fix it,” Derek promises with as much conviction as he can manage.

He’s going to fix it.

*

Scott sits down numbly once the door closes, bracing his elbows on his knees and pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead, trying to process what just happened. Allison sits down next to him but far enough away that they’re not touching. Hesitantly, she lays a hand on his shoulder.

He casts his gaze to her and takes her other hand, kissing it before pressing it between his own and staring forward again. He hears her sigh in relief and then she’s scooting forward to wrap her arm around him properly.

“How’re you feeling?” she murmurs, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what to feel,” he answers dazedly. “What do I- How could they- …I don’t know.”

“Do you believe them?” she asks gently. “About not wanting to go through with it?”

Scott turns his head and Allison leans back to look at him. “Do  _you?”_

She looks down at their hands, shrugging.

“I wanna believe it,” he tells her. He can’t believe everything about the last two months has all been an act. He’s never had a friend like Stiles before, never had someone besides Allison he’s felt like he could tell everything to. Is he really supposed to believe it was all just meant to lull him into a false sense of security? The mere thought of that being the case is too much for him to even consider. “But how can we? How can we know?”

Allison shrugs again. “We can’t,” she replies honestly.

If there’s one thing he appreciates about Allison, it’s that she’s honest. Always has been and always will be.

Scott can often be idealistic in his view of the world, he knows that. It’s something that comes with being optimistic and he wouldn’t change that about himself but he needs someone like Allison to ground him. To always tell it like it is and remind him people might always not be what they seem.

“Do you think what Derek said was true?” Allison asks after a while.

“About Kate?” Scott asks and Allison nods wordlessly. She looks so vulnerable, afraid of Scott’s answer. Allison probably hates herself right now, hates that she’s welling up, hates that she’s scared. And that’s why she needs Scott as much as he needs her because sometimes she forgets she’s allowed to feel, that she doesn’t have to be an unwavering source of strength when things get bad.

Scott leans over and kisses her temple, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know. Why would Kate kill his family?”

“Why would Peter kill Kate?” Allison counters grimly.

Scott frowns because it’s a good point. He’s got a feeling that there’s so much more to this than they know. Because why  _would_  Kate kill Derek’s family? And why would Derek’s uncle kill her? He remembers when Allison had opened up about her family, telling him how her Aunt Kate was like a sister to her and how she died. It never really made sense to him but he figured it wouldn’t since he was only getting the summarised version and Allison, herself, couldn’t make much sense of it.

“I think I need to talk to Derek,” Allison says, shaking him out of his reverie.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Scott asks uncertainly. He knows how important it is for her to find out the truth but after the other truth bomb that was just dropped on them he’s not really interested in sending Allison into an apartment occupied by hitmen.

“No,” she admits. “But I want to know what he knows. I’ll decide for myself what I think is true.”

Scott smiles because he’s never met anyone stronger than Allison. Never met anyone who can so clearly choose their own path. She’s a leader through and through. “Do what you need to do,” he tells her.

Allison pulls him in the second he meets her eye, kissing him soundly, like she’s putting everything she can’t say with words into it. But it’s okay because he can hear her just fine.

“I love you,” she whispers firmly when they part.

“Love you too,” Scott answers, kissing her forehead before she stands up.

“I’m gonna change, I’ll talk to Derek later,” she tells him, running a hand through his hair as she passes him by.

*

It takes Allison a while to psych herself up enough to cross the hall. She spends extra time taking off her makeup, tying her hair back and changing into her sweats, if only to put this off for a few more minutes.

When she knocks on the door it’s Stiles who answers. His red-rimmed eyes widen in surprise when he sees her and something painful twists in her chest. She wants to believe he’s crying because he betrayed her and Scott. She wants to believe so badly that this is hurting them just as much as it’s hurting her and Scott.

“Allison?” His voice is hoarse and he seems to realise it, quickly clearing his throat.

“Can I talk to Derek?” she asks, biting the bullet. It’s now or never.

Stiles’ eyes widen again but he nods, stepping back and pulling the door with him to let her through. “He’s on the balcony, brooding but don’t tell him I said that last part.” He gives her a half-smile like a peace offering and she smiles back because she’s too exhausted to do much else.

She walks through their living room and pushes the window up to climb through. Derek doesn’t turn, he probably think it’s Stiles. She’s proven right when she sits down next to him and he seems to double-take. She offers him a tentative smile as she pulls her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

“You’re pretty brave, entering an apartment owned by known assassins all by yourself,” he comments.

“I can take care of myself,” Allison tells him in a way that almost feels like they’re joking around. Like they weren’t just waiting for an opportunity to pull the trigger an hour ago.

Derek scoffs but not unkindly, “No arguments here.”

She smiles in spite of herself at the inadvertent praise. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“I figured,” Derek replies resignedly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Allison looks down, shrugging slightly. She takes a deep breath, she needs to focus on what she’s about to ask. She needs to know the truth. “Did Kate really kill your family?”

Derek meets her gaze appraisingly, like he’s trying to decide if lying or telling the truth would be more effective. “Yes,” he says eventually.

He’s not lying. She can tell, can see it in the way he still trips over the word a little, how his voice tightens as if it’s physically hurting him to say it.

“For what it’s worth,” Allison says. “ _I’m_  sorry.”

Derek affords her a wry smile, “No point in apologising for our families’ mess.”

She wants to ask him more about it, see what he knows, what he can tell her so it all makes sense but she doesn’t know if she can handle hearing it right now. “So when you said earlier everything had just been for your job,” she says instead and Derek stiffens. “Does that mean you and Stiles were lying when you said you were in a relationship?”

A laugh startles out of Derek and he shakes his head ruefully. “Yeah, Stiles thought we wouldn’t be able to be friends with you if Scott thought one of us was going to hit on you.”

Allison doesn’t mean to, doesn’t mean to pretend like any of this is okay, but she laughs.

“I know,” Derek chuckles again.

Allison eyes him with a speculative smile and when Derek finally looks at her his face goes blank. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Allison shrugs. “It’s just…you’re really good actors,” she says with a smirk and Derek flushes, looking away.

It’s ridiculous acting like this, like this is just her hanging out with a friend and joking around but she’s spent so much of the past two weeks worrying and by the time she actually found out the truth tonight when she confronted Derek she felt like she could collapse.

She can be angry in the morning. She can be furious and talk to Scott and Deaton and figure out what to do and how the hell Deucalion got footage of them.

“I still don’t understand how Deucalion had cameras we didn’t know about,” Allison muses aloud. “Danny’s so thorough, he never misses  _anything_.”

Derek shrugs, nodding along until he seems to realise something and freezes. “Wait did you say Danny?” he asks incredulously.

“Yeah?” Allison replies confusedly. “He’s our tech guy.”

“Danny  _Mahealani_?” Derek demands.

“Yes,” she repeats warily. “Do you know him?”

Derek’s not looking at her anymore, lost in his own head. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbles to himself. Then louder, he calls, “Stiles!”

Pushing himself up to stand, he’s about to go to the window when Allison grabs his arm. “Derek, what-“

“Danny’s  _our_  tech guy,” he replies and what? That makes no sense. Danny’s the one who found out the information about Derek and Peter-

Allison’s broken out of her reverie when Derek slips out of her grasp, climbing through the window and calling for Stiles again.

“Go get Scott,” he says, once she climbs through the window.

She hears Stiles ask, “What’s all the yelling about?” as she darts across the hall, throwing open her front door, her eyes landing on Scott sitting nervously on the couch. “You’re gonna wanna hear this,” she tells him, already turning back to Stiles and Derek’s apartment. She hears Scott hurrying after her a second later.

“What’s going on?” he asks, once he shuts the door.

Derek doesn’t look at them though, he looks at Stiles. “ _Danny’s_  their tech guy.”

Stiles furrows his brow, “Our Danny?”

“Yes. Our Danny,” Derek replies, rolling his eyes.

“And to think I was gonna give him a raise,” Stiles tsks, making Derek roll his eyes all over again.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Scott protests, already catching up. “If Danny’s been working for both of us then he’d know we’re your hits, right?”

Stiles looks at Derek and swallows. “Danny does all our background checks on both clients and targets. He knew from day one.”

“Then why didn’t he tell us?” Allison asks.

“Or you?” Scott adds.

Derek shakes his head, “I don’t know but you need to tell us who else is involved in this.”

“Lydia,” Allison begins and Stiles snorts. “Figures,” he mumbles under his breath.

“And Isaac and Danny,” she continues.

“Who’s running it?” Stiles questions.

“My art professor, Alan Deaton.”

Stiles and Derek share a look.

“Wait, you know him too?” Scott guesses.

“We know his sister,” Derek amends. “She works for us. She’s the reason we didn’t say no to Deucalion, we trusted her judgement.”

“Y’know something about that never sat right with me,” Stiles interjects. “We’ve never had to worry about a client since we hired her. It doesn’t make sense that she’d vouch for someone like him.”

“Unless she knew him?” Allison suggests. It’s as good a guess as any since they just found out one of their closest friends has known they’ve had targets on their backs this whole time.

Stiles nods, a look of fierce concentration on his face. “Do you think Deaton would know if she did?”

They all pause for a second, meeting one another’s gazes before everything springs into action.

“I’ll call Danny,” Stiles says right as Scott announces, “I’ll call Deaton.”

“I’ll get Erica and Boyd,” Derek adds.

“I’ve got Lydia and Isaac,” Allison responds, taking out her phone.

*

Everyone more or less arrives around the same time, thank god, because Stiles is not a fan of awkward silences and this could be awkward in about ten different ways.

Lydia and Isaac both look confused – though Lydia looks more curious while Isaac just looks like he literally doesn’t give a shit and he’s pissed they woke him up. Erica and Boyd have been boring holes in the side of Stiles and Derek’s heads with their eyes since they arrived and Danny looks on edge. Deaton is just like he was the one and only time Stiles met him; smiling placidly and looking like he knows far more than everyone else piled onto Stiles and Derek’s couches.

Stiles gets through the explanation of his and Derek’s real reason for moving in across from Allison and Scott as quickly as he can and while Lydia looks like she’s planning to skin them alive, that news is quickly overshadowed by the fact Danny’s been playing double-agent.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Derek demands.

“I was  _thinking_ , that as soon as I found out Deucalion knew I told Deaton and he told me to keep the charade up,” Danny replies simply.

All eyes flash to Deaton but Danny speaks up again with a snort. “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t kill them.”

“How on earth could you know that?” Stiles counters, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“Uh, because I told you you wouldn’t catch them and that you’d have to get closer to them,” he answers, looking extremely satisfied with himself. “And I knew the minute McCall and Stilinski met they’d decide to be platonic life-partners.”

Stiles feels a smile tugging at his lips and when he looks up he sees Scott fighting it too. It makes him hope this might not be totally unsalvageable.

“ _And_  I set Allison on the right trail so she could figure it out,” Danny adds.

Allison looks up at that, “The newspaper,” she says with dawning realisation. “You planted it.”

“Allison every single newspaper in that room had Peter Hale’s face on it, there was no way you’d miss it,” he tells her with a wink.

“But I asked you two weeks ago, why only tell me tonight?”

Danny shifts, casting a glance at Stiles, his eyes lingering on the gash on Stiles’ temple. “When Derek told me Stiles was attacked the other day, I figured we’d been waiting too long, we had to speed up the process.”

“Okay but that doesn’t explain why you,” Stiles says, looking at Deaton. “Wanted to keep up this whole charade in the first place and why you were willing to put Scott and Allison in danger. Or why the hell your sister even recommended Deucalion to us in the first place.”

“To answer your first question,” Deaton says calmly. “I asked Danny to keep this under wraps because Deucalion couldn’t suspect that Scott and Allison had any idea what was going on or he could get drastic.”

Stiles thinks about the guys Deucalion sent after him and what would’ve happened if Deucalion hadn’t hired Stiles and Derek and just gotten his own men to do the job instead. He shivers at the thought.

“To answer your second question,” Deaton continues. “We need to go back a few years.”

Isaac sighs, slumping back in his seat. “I’m really not in the mood for a history lesson. I’ve been overloaded with enough information tonight.”

Deaton smirks, “I’ll keep it brief. You want to know how my sister knows Deucalion and why Deucalion was so hell-bent on killing Scott and Allison rather than turning them into the police? Then I need to tell you what happened eight years ago between the Hales, Argents, Stilinskis and Deucalion.”

Stiles feels the way Derek shifts next to him, instinctively knows what this story’s going to entail and reaches out a hand to cover Derek’s.

“Stiles and Derek’s mothers, Claudia and Talia, along with Deucalion were quite prominent animal right’s activists in their time. But the work they do and the things they fought for…it’s a complicated business. I was a sort of legal advisor to Talia, counselling her on which battles to keep fighting and which ones to let go. My sister did the same for Deucalion.”

“Deucalion was an animal right’s activist?” Scott asks sceptically.

“Indeed he was, Scott,” Deaton confirms. “Gerard Argent, Allison’s grandfather, while being an arm’s dealer also had a business on the side. He had secret labs – _illegal_  labs – where he tested on animals.”

Stiles watches the way Allison folds in on herself slightly at the news until Scott puts his hand on her knee and Lydia links her arm through hers and she sits up straight again.

“What was he testing?” Lydia asks.

“We’re still not sure. There’s no records. What we do know is that he was testing on wolves; who were already becoming endangered in that area with something that involved aconite.”

“Aconite?” Erica repeats.

“Wolf’s bane,” Deaton elaborates. “Claudia and Talia were closing in on Gerard and were planning to get enough evidence to lock him up so he decided to get rid of them.”

Stiles bites down on his lip, forcing himself to keep his face neutral. The next part is the bit he’s familiar with.

“Kate was his protégé; the one he wanted to take after him since Chris, Allison’s father, would be inheriting their other business so he gave Kate the opportunity to prove herself by getting rid of Talia for him.”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand hard, cutting Deaton off before he can continue. “How Kate did it is  _not_  relevant to the story.”

“Stiles it’s okay,” Derek says quietly from beside him. He’s been staring at their hands the whole time. When he finally looks up, he looks straight at Allison. “Kate decided to be inventive to impress Gerard. She made me fall in love with her and then used me to get to my mom. She burned my house down with everyone in it while Peter was picking me up from basketball practice. I was a teenager at the time. That’s why Peter started up this company, to get back at Kate. And he did. He passed it on to me when he decided to move abroad.”

Stiles frowns, snaking a hand up Derek’s back and running it over his shoulders. He catches Erica scooting closer on Derek’s other side. Allison looks gutted, an apology already on her lips when Deaton starts talking again.

“Gerard was furious after Kate’s passing and planned an explosion at one of his labs the day Claudia, Deucalion and a few others were supposed to be there to document evidence,” Deaton tells them and Stiles closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to hear this again. “We assume he’d planned to be thousands of miles away by the time the explosion happened but there was a miscalculation. So while he destroyed the evidence and killed Claudia, he also killed himself.”

“But Deucalion didn’t die,” Boyd says since no one else seems to be able to speak. Derek leans his forehead against Stiles’ and squeezes his hand. Stiles sighs, drawing strength from the comforting touch before pulling away to hear Deaton’s response.

“No, he didn’t. But he was left blind, with some severe burns, mostly on his body.”

And- what?

“Deucalion’s not blind,” Erica says, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“He had reconstructive surgery a few times-“

“But it’s not working,” Danny supplies before looking at Stiles and Derek. “I told you his medical file was closed, I got it open. He’d been blind for about a year before he had his first surgery. It worked initially. For almost two years he was fine, then his sight started to deteriorate again. He’s had multiple surgeries since but it isn’t working.”

“Wait,” Lydia cuts in. “Does that mean the only reason Deucalion went to Stiles and Derek was because he saw Allison’s last name and wanted some sick kind of revenge?”

Allison makes a small, distressed noise next to her but keeps her face impassive.

“Most likely,” Deaton agrees.

“And Morell would’ve vouched for Deucalion because they used to work together,” Derek realises.

“But that still doesn’t explain what the hell the art has to do with it all,” Isaac protests. “How’s he been getting those paintings? And why is he doing it in the first place? How does someone go from animal rights activist to gallery owner on the Upper East Side?”

“Well, I’m not too sure about his motivations,” Deaton begins.

“I bet it’s some kind of poetic justice crap,” Stiles scoffs. “He’s losing his sight so he’s taking all these paintings – things that are renowned for their beauty – and he’s hoarding them.”

“Possibly,” Deaton allows.

“That is so _stupid_ ,” Isaac huffs.

“Maybe so, but not to a madman,” Deaton remarks. “What I  _do_  know is that a few years ago, paintings started going missing from galleries and museums all over the world, leaving a string of dead bodies behind them.”

“Wait, what dead bodies?” Scott asks.

“Well, while the paintings that were stolen were by no means the most popular or famous, they were still heavily guarded. But of course, people were more concerned about the murders than getting the art back to its rightful owners.”

“Why though? That makes no sense. Find the paintings, find the murderer,” Stiles summarises succinctly.

“It wasn’t that easy. The geographical scale of the crimes was too widespread, making it difficult for police to coordinate.”

“Then how did  _you_  figure it out?” Derek enquires dubiously.

“My sister,” Deaton replies with a smile. “I made contact with a few of the owners and we struck up an agreement to get the paintings back without any fuss. And then I began to make a name for myself and the clients came to me.”

“ _Without any fuss?”_  Stiles repeats incredulously. “You’re  _stealing!_  The police have been after you for years.”

Deaton only smiles patiently at him, like he’s waiting for Stiles to figure it out. “You’ve got people on the inside,” he finally realises. “It’s how you haven’t been caught this whole time.”

Deaton nods his approval.

“But we’re also preventing Deucalion from being caught,” Allison frowns. “We’re returning the evidence.”

“And that’s why it’s up to us to bring him down,” Deaton says smoothly.

“We could set up a fake heist,” Derek suggests immediately. “Deucalion’s egotistical. We can tell him Scott and Allison are going to take another painting and that’s when we’re planning on doing the job.”

“And then ask him to be there to witness what he paid for,” Stiles adds, guessing where Derek’s going with this. “He’ll have the illusion of control because we’ll be on his territory-“

“But we can set him up,” Allison says with a small smile. “Record a confession.”

“But we can’t exactly do that without implicating ourselves,” Scott pitches in regretfully.

“Which is why you’ll all leave the police to me,” Deaton warns them. “But a cover story shouldn’t be too hard to construct. Stiles is a criminology major too curious for his own good, Allison’s an art lover,” he continues, assigning them each a role. “Let’s say, Derek’s literary interests lie in mysteries and when Scott hears what his friends have discovered, he feels duty-bound to help them and do the right thing.”

“It could work,” Lydia acknowledges. “But what about Stiles and Derek’s company?”

“What company?” Danny asks with a Cheshire cat grin and Stiles smirks.

“Think you could make it disappear, Danny boy?”

“There won’t be a trace left to find,” Danny promises dutifully.

*

It’s not long after that Deaton tells them all to go home and that they can plan tomorrow.  _Well_ , today  _technically_ , Scott thinks,  _it’s already like 3am_.

People filter out, saying their tired goodbyes like they weren’t just discussing how to take down a crime lord for the past two hours.

Allison’s talking quietly with Lydia as they walk out the door when Stiles pulls Scott back. “Scott,” he says nervously, fidgeting on the spot. “I wanted to say sorry. As soon as we met I didn’t want to go through with it. And the past few weeks have been  _killing_  me, I’ve been trying so hard to figure out a way out of this and-“

Scott doesn’t want to hear anymore. Instead he just pulls Stiles in for a bone-crushing hug, cutting him off. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Hearing about what happened to your mom…All of it…I- I think I get it. I believe you. I forgive you.”

Stiles hugs back fiercely, whispering so no one else can hear. “I’ve never had a friend like you before, I don’t want to lose you.”

Scott smiles, feeling his eyes starting to water. “Same.”

Stiles lets him go with a tremulous smile and Derek comes up behind him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Scott smiles at them and then Allison’s putting a hand on his arm and leading him to the door.

He’s not sure if they’re all gonna come out of this in one piece, he’s not sure if they can beat Deucalion but he thinks he’s pretty sure about one thing. They’ll be okay.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re finishing the deal Thursday night.”
> 
> Deucalion’s eyes narrow, flicking between the two of them before nodding slowly. “Good to know.”
> 
> “We have a proposition for you,” Derek adds, picking up where Stiles left off and Stiles notices how Deucalion’s eyebrow raises just a touch.
> 
> “They’re planning to steal another painting on Thursday,” Derek continues and Deucalion’s mouth tightens. “We thought you might like to be there when it happens.”

The first part of their plan is probably the most important, since everything else is hinging on it. Derek gets in contact with Morell – he doesn’t tell her what they’ve figured out and they warned Deaton not to either, not knowing where her allegiance lies makes her a liability – and asks her to contact Deucalion about a meeting.

It’s why Stiles and Derek are back at the office - somewhere they haven’t been in weeks - back in their suits and making their way to the conference room.

“You ready?” Derek asks him, still staring straight ahead as they move down the corridor. He’s wound tight like a spring, Stiles can tell. Derek’s always tense with clients but Stiles knows this is different, knows Derek wants to kick the crap out of Deucalion for about nine different reasons.

Stiles takes a deep breath to calm himself down and nods even though Derek’s not looking at him. “We do this and it’s almost over.” Stiles almost smiles to himself. He chose this life, he agreed to be a part of it and he doesn’t regret it. But the thought of him and Derek being free,  _actually free_ , almost makes him giddy.

There’s a fleeting moment outside the door where they pause and Derek just barely tangles their fingers together and squeezes and Stiles feels some of the tension drain out of him. They can do this.

They have to do this.

Deucalion’s sitting at the desk when they come in and Stiles gets a massive sense of Deja-vu. Except this time, Deucalion doesn’t rise to greet them, instead he just watches Derek warily until they sit down. Huh, weird.

“And what can I do for you?” Deucalion asks – more like, sneers really. “There’s obviously a reason you called me here.”

“There is.” Stiles steels himself, allows himself the teeniest glance in Derek’s direction and breathes a little easier. “We’re finishing the deal Thursday night.”

Deucalion’s eyes narrow, flicking between the two of them before nodding slowly. “Good to know.”

“We have a proposition for you,” Derek adds, picking up where Stiles left off and Stiles notices how Deucalion’s eyebrow raises  _just_  a touch.

“They’re planning to steal another painting on Thursday,” Derek continues and Deucalion’s mouth tightens. “We thought you might like to be there when it happens.”

Deucalion’s composure slips and he gapes at them. “You want to do this at  _my_  gallery while I’m present?” Deucalion scoffs. “You should know I’m smarter than that, boys.”

“Why would we turn you in when we’d just be implicating ourselves?” Stiles challenges. He knows he can wear Deucalion down, he just has to keep pushing. “You won’t be dealing with body disposal and we’ll be on your territory, how could we plan something without you finding out about it?” he reasons.

He can see the way Deucalion’s starting to look unsure, like he’s considering it.

Now for the killing blow.

“Besides,” Stiles says, leaning forward in his seat and holding Deucalion’s gaze. “Don’t you wanna be there when it happens? Don’t you want to see the moment when they realise their “friends” have been planning to kill them all along? Don’t you want them to know  _you’re_  the one who beat them? Don’t you want to see the blood drain out of their faces?”

Annnd sold.

Deucalion’s practically vibrating with glee at the prospect. Stiles, himself, feels like he might vomit. A sneaky look at Derek says he’s probably feeling the same way.

“What d’you say?” Derek asks when Deucalion’s still silent a moment later.

“I accept your proposition,” Deucalion says finally, without a hint of emotion in his voice. Though the pleased smirk says otherwise.

“Good,” Stiles smiles charmingly. “Midnight, Thursday night. We’ll meet you at your office and take you to them.”

“Looking forward to it,” Deucalion smirks, striding out of the room like he’d rather be skipping.

As soon as the door closes Stiles sighs in relief and slumps forward in his chair. Derek puts a hand on his back, just a comforting touch weighing him down.

“You did good,” Derek murmurs and Stiles looks up and gives him a half-smile.”

“Did  _well_ ,” Stiles corrects with the hint of a smirk.

Derek huffs a laugh, “Correcting your grammar is supposed to be my thing.”

Stiles smiles and pushes back from the table, shivering a little when Derek’s hand trails down his back as he drops it. “You did good too. Time for phase two?”

Derek stands up, lets out a breath in a huff and nods. “Let’s go.”

Their next stop is Danny’s office down the hall. Erica and Boyd are in there when they arrive, flanking Danny’s sides where he sits at his desk. All their heads snap to the door when Stiles comes in with Derek.

“Everything go okay?” Erica asks, chewing anxiously at her bottom lip.

Derek nods, “He bought it. The plan’s a go,” he tells them as they both take their seats.

Danny sighs in relief, “Thank  _god_.”

“Ready for the next part, Danny?” Stiles asks and Danny grins, nodding enthusiastically.

“Ready to say goodbye to the company?”

Stiles and Derek share a look. This company is what ultimately brought them together. It’s what gave Stiles his best friend – even if he thinks Derek’s title might have been bumped up to something more in the past few weeks. This was an important part of their lives but it’s time to end it.

They both turn back to Danny and nod. “Make it disappear,” Stiles tells him.

Danny looks like a kid in a candy store as he starts tapping away at his laptop. “Annnnd, every trace of this company online or otherwise is  _gone_.”

“The office?” Derek asks.

“Already up for sale,” Danny answers. “Besides, it’s still under Peter’s pseudonym, not yours,  _Hallward_.” Danny rolls his eyes at the fake name. Whatever. Peter’s was even more ridiculous. “There’s no way they can trace it back and if anyone asks how you two’ve been making your cash, it’ll just look like it’s been transferred from Derek’s account with the insurance payout.” He says the last part far more gently and Derek smiles sadly. “I also destroyed the cheque Deucalion sent us so he can’t use the money transfer as proof.”

“Thanks Danny,” Stiles says sincerely.

“I’m saving my own ass too here,” Danny snorts, lightening the mood.

“What if anyone wants to know how all of you have been making your money?” Derek asks suddenly.

“One; we don’t make as much as you two,” Danny says. “Far less suspicious.”

“And two, we’ve been “employed” by Peter’s real company this whole time,” Boyd finishes.

Stiles remembers that actually. It’s the only reason they took the three of them on because there was no way any of it could back to them since they were supposed to be working their way up the company ladder at Hale industries.

“Well that’s two stressful things done for the day,” Stiles exhales as he stands up. “Meet you later for strategy for phase three?”

The others nod their assent as Derek stands up.

“Later boss!” Erica calls, flopping down into Derek’s vacated seat while Boyd takes Stiles’.

As soon as they’ve exited the building Derek turns to him and says, “How about a nap before we plan how to throw Deucalion’s ass in jail?”

And yeah, Stiles hasn’t really been sure up until this point whether or not his feelings for Derek are r _omantic_  but wow after that line, he might actually be a little bit in love with him.

“Lead the way, Heathcliff,” Stiles sighs dramatically, leaning heavily on Derek as they start down the street.

Derek pokes him in the side –  _where he knows Stiles is ticklish_  – before petulantly yelling, “I’m not Heathcliff!” over Stiles’ indignant squawk.

*

“Okay so we know we’ll be in the main ballroom with Scott, Allison and Deucalion,” Stiles says, leaning over the blueprints of the gallery and drawing a circle around the room with a sharpie.

When Scott had asked where they got the blueprints Danny just smiled – a frankly terrifying smile, remind Scott never to get on his bad side.

“Which is our main objective,” Deaton agrees. “But the rest of your roles are just as vital. There are four other members of Deucalion’s team that will no doubt be there Thursday night.”

“Kali, Ennis, Ethan and Aiden,” Danny supplies, ticking them off on his fingers.

“Ennis, Ethan and Aiden are the ones who attacked Stiles,” Derek says, clenching his fist because he’s still furious about that. It’s okay, Scott is too. “So they’re strong.”

“ _But_  they rely on their muscle,” Deaton adds. “All we need is a distraction.”

“I can take Ennis,” Boyd says, leaving no room for argument. Not that anyone  _would_  argue. Scott’s seen a picture of the dude and he’s ginormous. If anyone has a fighting chance it’s Boyd.

“Just what kind of distraction are we talking about?” Lydia asks, eyebrow arched and Scott knows that look. Knows damn well what she’s planning and that one of those twins isn’t getting out of there alive.

Danny regards her with a smirk, “Wanna have some fun?”

“What? You mean flirt with boys and then cut them down for ever thinking I’m some vapid, self-conscious girl just dying for their attention?” she responds innocently. “Why, yes I do, Daniel. Care to join me?”

Danny laughs with absolute glee and reaches over to give her a fist bump – he’s the only person she _ever_  deigns that acceptable with. Most of the room watches them in amusement until Deaton clicks his fingers to bring them all back to attention.

“Leave Kali to me,” Erica says decisively. Scott doesn’t know her very well. Only really from the last few days and from what Stiles and Derek have told him. She looks confident and she dresses confident but there’s a vulnerability about her.

She reminds him of Allison a bit. Like she feels she has to prove herself or overcome her weaknesses. But like Allison, he’s pretty sure she could destroy someone if she had reason to so he thinks she’ll handle this just fine.

“Okay Isaac,” Deaton says, turning to him. “You’re gonna be in the van with the surveillance. Danny will have it all hooked up for you so you stay in the back, away from the windows with the doors locked. It’s imperative you keep a close watch of the four different feeds but most importantly, the one from the ballroom. Once Deucalion’s confessed we’re going to need the police there in a matter of minutes or he’ll realise it’s a setup.”

Isaac nods seriously, brow furrowing slightly.

“Now, I’ll have alerted my contacts on the force to expect a call so they should leave as soon as you give them the signal.”

“Got it,” Isaac nods again, looking a bit pale. Scott gives him a reassuring smile.

“Now you four,” Deaton says, catching Scott, Allison, Stiles and Derek’s attention. “We need to tread carefully to keep any of you from being implicated. We have our story-“

Said story is just a slightly more fleshed out version of the nonsense Deaton made up about them a few nights ago. It’s pretty flimsy but Scott figures it’s their word against a psychopath’s.

“He’s going to try and drag you all down with him but he won’t have proof,” Deaton continues. “We just need to go that extra mile to make sure.”

They all nod a little uncertainly, not really sure what Deaton’s getting at. “First of all,” he says, looking to Stiles and Derek. “Your sniper rifles  _will not_  be real.”

Derek gets an affronted look, immediately about to protest but Stiles beats him to it. “Are you kidding me?” Stiles demands. “What if he tries to kill one of us?”

“That’s why you’ll be wearing one of these,” Deaton replies calmly, pulling what Scott guesses is a bullet proof vest out of his briefcase and holding it up. “All of you,” Deaton adds with finality and Scott nods his acceptance, feels Allison do the same next to him.

Stiles huffs, slouching back in his seat but he doesn’t complain again.

“Besides,” Deaton continues, an amused kind of smile on his face. “Allison will still have her crossbow.”

“Why does she get a weapon when we don’t?” Derek grouses.  _He sounds kind of like a petulant kid actually_ , Scott thinks amusedly. It’s kind of hilarious given the subject matter.

“Because Allison was nationally ranked in archery as a kid. It’s far less suspicious for her to have a crossbow with her for protection when it’s legally hers as opposed to you two having guns with you.”

Scott’s not gonna lie, he beams with pride at that. When he chances a glance at Allison she’s blushing and looking unbelievably pleased with herself.

“Fine,” Derek says, huffing like Stiles did a minute before. Yeah, Scott’s still having a pretty hard time believing those two were lying about being in a relationship.

“Need I remind you all this is extremely serious,” Deaton reprimands, meeting each of their gazes individually. “Not to mention, dangerous.”

“We know,” Scott promises, looking over at Allison and nodding to her in understanding as she smiles back at him. She looks to Deaton then, “We can do this,” she says, leaving no room for doubt.

*

Allison lies in bed with Scott, both of them on their side while she plays with their hands that are curled together between their chests.

They usually talk before they go to sleep. Nothing heavy, just random things from their day that they forgot to mention earlier. Whether it’s for a few minutes or three hours, it’s how they wind down and Allison always sleeps deeper for it.

Tonight’s different though.

She supposes neither of them knows what to say since tomorrow they’re putting themselves in more danger than they probably ever have before and as much as she trusts their plan, there’s always something that could go wrong.

She must be squeezing Scott’s hands unconsciously because suddenly he’s squeezing back. She stops looking down at their linked fingers and flicks her gaze up to meet Scott’s. He’s close, so close she can feel his forehead lightly touching hers, so close she can feel his breath ghosting over her face.

“Are you scared?” he whispers. He doesn’t need to ask what about. They both know.

“Terrified,” she admits, which is kind of a huge deal for her. It’s been a long time since she’s ever admitted to anyone how scared she gets.

But Scott doesn’t judge her. He never would. 

“Wanna know a secret?” he asks her and she nods.

“Me too,” he says, almost laughing at himself. It makes Allison want to laugh too. It shouldn’t; they’re admitting they’re afraid of being beaten, of getting hurt, of dying, of losing each other. But there’s something so incredibly juvenile about this moment, lying in bed and holding hands, whispering before they go to sleep.

Deucalion and this whole situation might’ve changed them; made them tougher, less likely to trust easy.

But it’ll never take this.

This feeling of utmost safety and security lying in bed with the person she loves. This is theirs and it belongs beneath their covers, hidden from the world and just for them.

She closes the gap between them and kisses Scott softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He pecks her lips once more before she moves around so she can rest her head on Scott’s chest and his arms wind tight around her.

“Goodnight.”

*

Derek shrugs his leather jacket over his shoulders, zipping it up over his black Henley. The bullet-proof vest presses uncomfortably against his chest but he knows why he needs it. He’s also got a wire on him in case the feed from Danny’s surveillance cameras doesn’t pick up everything. Scott has a camera on him too just in case.

Danny wired them both up before disappearing with Lydia to “strategize,” whatever the hell  _that_ means.

“Stiles, are you ready?” he calls in the general direction of their bedroom, picking up the bag containing their fake weapons. He hates feeling so vulnerable and unprotected but honestly, the thought of Allison being there with her crossbow puts him more at ease than the vests do.

Stiles ambles out of their room, messing with his jacket before looking up and giving Derek a half smile. “I’m ready,” he says, blowing out a breath between his lips as he arrives at Derek’s side.

“Then let’s go.” Derek lugs the bag off the table and turns towards the door but then Stiles’ hand is latching onto his arm, spinning Derek on the spot with surprising strength and then-

 _And then Stiles is kissing him_.

He crushes their lips together with a ferocity that almost knocks Derek over and Derek immediately drops the bag to hold onto him – his waist, his jacket, his shoulders, his hair, he doesn’t care as long as he can feel Stiles move against him.

It’s probably the most devastatingly perfect thirty seconds of Derek’s life.

Stiles releases him with a heaving breath and Derek opens his eyes dazedly. “What was that for?” he asks, voice already hoarse.

Stiles smiles, almost sadly, and says, “Just in case.”

And no, that’s not the way this is supposed to go. Derek frowns and uses his hands still clutching Stiles to pull him in again, bringing their lips together softer this time but no less intense. He takes his time as he lets his hands travel up Stiles’ sides to cup his face and then Stiles is sighing against his mouth, falling into him like his knees have gone weak and twisting his fingers in Derek’s hair. It feels right.

This time it’s Stiles who looks dazed when they part. “What was that for?” he mumbles, copying Derek’s words.

“Because if I’m gonna kiss you it’s because I want to, not “just in case”,” Derek tells him firmly.

Stiles startles a bit at the conviction behind the words before his expression melts into a smile and he darts forward to give Derek a peck on the lips, sliding his hand into Derek’s. “Let’s go put that douchebag’s ass in jail.”

 

They hang back outside the gallery for a few minutes when they arrive, waiting for Isaac to tell them everyone’s in position.

After a moment Isaac’s voice is filtering into both their ears, “Kali, Ennis and the twins are all thoroughly distracted. Scott and Allison are in position and Deucalion’s alone in his office. You’re good to go.”

The back door’s open when they get to it – whether it’s from Scott and Allison or Deucalion, it’s impossible to tell.

They follow the path they’d outlined on the map, Stiles leading the way since he’s always been good at applying visuals to the real thing. When they get to the door of Deucalion’s office he hesitates though so Derek steps forward and knocks on the door.

Deucalion appears after a second, a contained excitement in his expression. Knowing what a thrill he gets from this makes Derek feel sick.

“Gentlemen, allow me to escort you to the ballroom,” Deucalion says in that stupid fucking voice he thinks is charming – it’s  _not_ , it’s smarmy.

As he slips past the two of them, leading the way, Stiles side-eyes Derek and Derek rolls his eyes in return. It’s worth it for the small smile Stiles gets.

“Well, well, well. What’s this?” Deucalion asks in faux surprise when they come through the doors of the room.

Scott and Allison are playing their part well. They freeze from where they were pretending to take the painting off the wall and Stiles and Derek dutifully lift their fake guns and aim.

Scott and Allison turn around slowly, first regarding Deucalion warily and then taking notice of the guns in “shock”.

Allison carefully slides her crossbow out of the strap across her back and Derek breathes a silent sigh of relief. He feels infinitely better with an arrow pointed at Deucalion’s face.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Deucalion chides, holding up a finger to stop her. “Do you really think that’s wise with two rifles pointing at you and your beloved?”

Allison’s jaw tightens and Derek knows she’s probably fantasising about clawing Deucalion’s face off right now. Scott, probably the least violent person Derek’s ever met, doesn’t look far behind her.

They step forward into the light, standing only a few feet from Deucalion and Stiles and Derek. They’d agreed on the positioning beforehand, it allowed Stiles and Derek to turn on Deucalion quickly if they had to and still have back-up and gave the wire Scott’s wearing better access.

“Now, would you like to tell me why you’re stealing my paintings?” Deucalion asks congenially.

“ _You’re_  the one stealing them!” Scott fires at him, looking suitably furious.

“Whatever do you mean?” Deucalion says in a poor attempt of innocence.

“We figured it out,” Allison taunts. “We know what you’re doing.”

“You have no idea what I’m doing!” Deucalion shoots back.

“Then why don’t you tell us?” Allison asks innocuously.

And here comes the villain’s monologue. Derek just about manages to resist rolling his eyes as Deucalion starts his tangent with a sneer. He starts off with Allison’s grandfather and what he did but the more he talks, the more unhinged he gets. What started as a scathing rant is devolving quickly into the ramblings of a mad man. Derek meets Allison and Scott’s eyes fleetingly, giving them a concerned look. He can’t see Stiles from where he’s standing on the other side of Deucalion without moving but he doesn’t want to draw attention.

“…And you stupid, insolent  _children_ think after all this time.  _After everything I’ve_   _done_ , that I would be bested by a few kids with deluded notions of integrity?! I-“

Deucalion stops abruptly, pausing like he’s focusing on something else. And then a dangerous smile graces his lips, a humourless laugh escaping from between them. “You were trying to set me up.”

He sees Allison and Scott’s eyes widen in disbelief, imagines he and Stiles probably look the same and then everything clicks into place at once. Isaac must’ve called the police as soon as Deucalion started talking. And one of his minions could’ve heard the sirens. Which means Deucalion’s been wearing an earpiece too this whole time.

Derek moves the same time Stiles does, stepping into place to stand with Scott and Allison, facing Deucalion. Allison tightens her grip on her crossbow and Derek and Stiles keeps their guns armed, hoping Deucalion hasn’t figured out they’re not real yet. They only need to hold him off for a minute or two.

Four things happen at once then.

Two policeman barge through the door, guns aimed and yelling. Deucalion slips a hand inside his suit jacket, removing a gun and doesn’t even wait a second before he’s aiming at Derek – the closest to him – and shooting. Stiles pushes in front of Derek in the space of half a second as the shot rings out and then collapses into Derek’s arms. And then there’s a click and a whoosh to his right and he sees one of Allison’s arrows lodging in Deucalion’s thigh and he’s falling to the floor, wailing in pain.

The police rush Deucalion and Derek finds himself kneeling down so he can hold Stiles’ weight. Stiles is still conscious, blinking owlishly up at him. A quick scan of his body and Derek sees the bullet lodged in Stiles’ shoulder.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Derek demands. He probably sounds completely hysterical but he doesn’t care. He feels Allison and Scott bending down on either side of them, vaguely hears one of the police calling for a medic.

“He was gonna shoot you,” Stiles replies weakly.

“I’m wearing a bullet-proof vest, you dumbass!” Derek would honestly love to strangle him if Stiles wasn’t already potentially fighting for his life.

“Is that any way to talk to someone who just saved your life?” Stiles huffs before wincing and Derek leans forward unthinkingly and presses their lips together.

“If you live through this, I’m gonna kill you myself,” Derek grumbles against his lips.

“Love you too, Der,” Stiles responds, rolling his eyes like there wasn’t a freaking  _bullet_  in his arm.

*

Everything happens in a rush after that.

Two paramedics come in and whisk Stiles away. The rest of them are all supposed to go for questioning and give their statements but Derek is allowed to ride in the ambulance with him by being as pushy as humanly possible.

They give the story Deaton fed them and are eventually allowed to leave the station hours later. As Allison and Scott are about to leave Erica hurries up to them, a frantic look in her eyes. “Tell Derek we’ll be at the hospital soon.”

“How’d you know that’s where we’re going?” Scott asks.

Erica rolls her eyes, smiling knowingly. “Where else would you be going?”

“We’ll tell him,” Allison promises and Erica’s smile turns grateful before she nods and makes her way back to Boyd.

 

When they arrive at the hospital they can tell which room is Stiles purely based on the arguing. Allison shares a look with Scott before they both start laughing.

They stroll into the room and see Stiles sitting up in his bed, his shoulder bandaged and his arm in a sling, while Derek keeps grousing at him telling him to, “Lie down, for fuck’s sake!”

“You’re the worst nurse ever!” Stiles retorts. “You’re supposed to be feeding me pudding and giving me foot rubs.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your legs were damaged,” Derek remarks sarcastically and Stiles rolls his eyes so hard it looks physically painful.

Scott clears his throat and they both freeze, looking up with sheepish expressions.

“So how’s the patient?” Scott asks, repressing a laugh.

“I’m  _fine_. I wanna go home,” Stiles whines.

“You’re impossible,” Derek complains, throwing his eyes heavenward. Allison laughs, quickly muffling it when Derek scowls at her.

“Did the police talk to you?”

“Yeah they questioned me while Stiles was in surgery, they’re gonna talk to him tomorrow,” Derek responds.

Stiles is still scowling so she figures it’s time to lighten the mood.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat. “How about Friday night dinner tomorrow?”

Derek’s face softens and he nods with a smile. Scott squeezes her hand, beaming and bouncing excitedly at the prospect of Stiles and Derek sticking around.

Stiles just nods morosely and mutters, “If I ever get out of the hell hole.”

 

* Epilogue *

“Do you think they’ll like it?” Scott whispers excitedly as Allison knocks on the door.

“Mhm,” Allison smirks and Scott grins at her.

Derek opens the door, immediately throwing it wide open to let them in, giving them a “hey” as they pass him by.

“How’s Stiles?” Scott asks.

“Insufferable as ever,” Derek scoffs.

“I heard that,” Stiles sniffs, coming out of their room, glaring mutinously at the sling on his arm.

“Maybe this’ll cheer you up!” Scott suggests, trying so hard not to grin.

“Your housewarming gift,” Allison says, placing the canvas on the kitchen island with a flourish. “Since you’re sticking around.”

They both peer over in curiosity and Stiles snorts. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious,” Derek says drily but Allison can see the secretly pleased look on his face.

“We thought so,” she says lightly, grinning. The painting is a copy of the one she and Scott were meant to “steal” the night of the Deucalion take-down. She spent the last couple of days painting it.

“We’ll treasure it always,” Stiles says solemnly before snickering.

“What even happened to Deucalion anyway?” Derek wonders aloud as he goes to hang the painting. Stiles follows him around, directing him and tsking every time Derek hangs it wrong.

“Well he tried to take us down with him but whatever Deaton said got all of us off any possible charges and him and his cronies locked up for a long time,” Allison shrugs.

“They’re working on linking all the crimes at those galleries to him so I don’t think he’ll be getting out for a while,” Scott adds.

“Pfft good riddance,” Stiles scoffs as Derek straightens the painting. “ _Perfect_ ,” he declares.

Derek rolls his eyes again, looking far more affectionate this time and kisses the side of Stiles’ head as he passes him to return to the island. Stiles gets a giddy kind of look on his face and trails after him.

“Wait so if you guys are together for real this time and you’re not moving, does that mean we can get cats together now?” Scott asks and Stiles starts nodding enthusiastically straight away.

“You can barely keep a plant alive,” Derek scoffs. “How are you supposed to deal with a cat?”

“I keep you alive just fine, don’t I?” Stiles retorts.

Derek huffs but he looks a little flustered.

“How would you feel about a puppy?” Allison suggests. “You can have Scott.”

Scott snaps his head to her. “Hey!” he exclaims indignantly as Allison laughs and ruffles his hair.

Stiles turns to Derek with a beseeching look. “Please Derek! Can we keep him?”

Derek barely manages a serious expression before he dissolves into laughter, setting the rest of them off.

As Scott protests half-heartedly and Stiles pats his arm sympathetically while Derek tries to stifle his laughter Allison thinks,  _I could get used to this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start of by saying a huge thank you to every single person who's subscribed, bookmarked, kudos'd and commented on this fic. Also a special thank you to Ylva for even giving me this idea in the first place with one of those three sentence fic meme things, this story wouldn't exist otherwise <3
> 
> I know this wasn't necessarily one of my most popular fics but for me it was an awesome experience. It's the longest thing I've ever written by myself. It's also the first thing I've written that's actually plot heavy. And writing a different relationship and two new povs was a real challenge for me
> 
> So I want to say I sincerely hope you've enjoyed this fic and thank you for giving it a chance :)


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